One Night Is Not Enough
by luckyfox
Summary: “The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.” G.K. Chesterton. A foolish mistake threatens to destroy the closeness between Rogue and Logan forever, while Magneto brings trouble down onto the rest of the team.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **One Night is Not Enough

**Author: **Luckyfox

**Rating: **PG-13 to mild R

**Genre(s): **Dramatic romance and angst

**Pairing(s): **Rogue/Scott, Rogue/Wolverine, very minor background Pyro/Magneto

**Five Main Characters: **Wolverine, Rogue, Scott, Pyro, Mystique

**Setting and Time: **This is a movie-verse fic set a few months after X3, with some minor changes; most notably, Scott and Xavier are alive, although Jean is not.

**Summary: **"The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost." (G.K. Chesterton). A foolish mistake threatens to destroy the closeness between Rogue and Logan forever, while Magneto brings trouble down onto the rest of the team.

**Notes: **This story was inspired by the Snow Patrol song "One Night is Not Enough", which I've thought would be perfect for Wolverine/Rogue fiction for a very long time. I hope I've done it justice.

**Warnings: **This story contains some sexuality between the main characters, as well as minor mentions alluding to homosexuality (slash) in the background.

* * *

"_The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost." _- G.K. Chesterton

"Buy a girl a beer, Logan?"

She sauntered over, across the dusty, tiled floor that smelt of spilt whiskey and old cigarettes, just the lightest whiff of perfume evident on her skin, like she'd sprayed on some hours ago, in the heat of battle, and it had sunk into her pores, been absorbed by her devouring skin.

"Might be obliged," I teased back lightly, downing my own drink and signaling to the barkeep. He slid two whiskeys across the polished oak bar, raised his eyes to Rogue for a fraction of a second, then caught sight of me and got busy wiping down his glasses and refilling the bowl of stale pretzels in the corner.

We had just come off a mission not an hour before, knockin' heads with a few Friends of Humanity. Mostly, that consisted of breaking up one of their little rallies; nothing all that exciting, but a couple of the scumbags wanted to play so we had to engage. They'd rounded up a few stray mutant kids, mostly homeless teens they found living off the street, and lured into a van the way I heard it; beat 'em and drugged 'em, then took 'em to the rally to demonstrate their might against the mutant menace. Luckily, we turned up. The kids were scared - bruised and shell-shocked - not to mention hungry and tired, but Storm and Hank got 'em calmed down while Chuck went to deal with the police about pressing charges against the FOH bastards. It was my job to keep an eye on Rogue, Bobby, St John and Kitty while Storm flew the kids to the mansion and Hank did his diplomacy bit for the cameras.

Rogue took a dainty sip of her drink, holding the shot glass real lady-like in her hand, grimacing and frowning at the strong taste of the alcohol, but she has never been one to let herself appear childish, so she downed it. "Can I have another?" she asked, reaching across to pull my cigar out of my hand and raise it to her own lips. She was a bit more practiced in smoking than in drinking, so she managed not to choke or cough, just to give me a sour look as she blew out the silvery smoke, pursing those petal pink lips all pretty. "Please?"

"Well, since you're askin' so nice..." I shrugged. "Leave the bottle," I told the bartender, and paid in full 'cause he was givin' me a suspicious look like I might cheat him. Just for luck, I dropped a two dollar piece into the tip jar; no matter how often I use it, I still find Canadian change in the pockets of my jeans or tucked between the cushion and the frame of the chair I sit on all the time in the lounge. It was practically Canada where we were anyway; same scent in the air, cold winter and smoke. "Slide that glass here, kid."

"Hardly a child, Logan," she told me in that haughty voice she sometimes uses when she's put out, just to show you she's pissed. "I'm eighteen." That, added defensively, went to show just how young she really was, but it was sort of endearing anyway, just like the brash way she tilted the amber alcohol to her lips and poured it down her throat. She jutted out her hip, making me look her over, and that body definitely did not belong to a child. She'd filled out a bit since I'd found her as a stowaway; instead of sharp angles she was full of soft curves just begging to be touched.

Chomping on my cigar, I looked her over. "Eighteen, huh? Not old enough to be drinking, the way I see it."

"I can handle my liquor."

"Ready for more, then, or you want me to order you a pina colada?"

"Fuck you, Logan," she said, but she was laughing, and she tipped the bottle over my glass, filling it to the brim. "I know what you're trying to do, sugar, and I'm not that dumb. You're not gonna get me drunk while you sit there sober."

"You can't get me drunk, kid, so don't try. Anyway, I've got a van load of kids expecting me to get 'em back to the hotel safely." I looked over to the wide corner booth where Bobby and St John were talking to Kitty. She was flattered as hell by the attention; Kitty was a cute little girl but Rogue usually drew the boys like bees to honey, so gettin' the two of them, most eligible bachelors of the house or whatever, to pay attention to her was a dream come true. "Guess we're in no hurry."

"Drink up!"

"I don't get drunk, kid -- Rogue. Healin' powers, remember?" The smirk irritated her, and she punched me on the upper arm, her knuckles digging into the muscle there, leaving a bruise that faded in a second. "Speakin' of powers, how are yours holding up?"

She got serious for a second and pressed her hands against the bar palms down, her fingers splayed wide. "All right. I've still got control." She frowned though, and a second later she told me why. "One of those creeps, a FOH guy -- I had my back turned because I thought they were all gone, and he grabbed me. My power kicked on right away, there wasn't any time to control it because he startled me so bad. I got a heavy dose of his thoughts; he was going to do something to me, I'm not sure what, but I can guess." She sighed, dipped a finger in her whiskey and sucked on it. "I took hold of his arm, meaning to shove him away, but I think I held on too long. His thoughts are still in my head. I think -- I think I might have hurt him really bad."

"You can't beat yourself up about that, kid. He's FOH; he would've done worse to you if you'd let him."

"Yeah, but..." She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "I hate it, Logan. I hate this power, this mutation. Storm calls our mutations gifts, but they aren't gifts, they're curses. Mine might of killed someone tonight. He was a bad guy, yeah, but maybe he didn't deserve to die and I killed him anyway."

"Or maybe he's all right. You don't know --"

"I'm telling you, he's probably a goner." She wrapped her arms around herself. "It's a curse, it's definitely a curse. I can't get rid of it. No matter what I do, it comes back, worse than ever. First I nearly killed you, twice, and all that stuff with Magneto -- then I tried to cure it, and what happened? The cure's faulty, the cure doesn't cure it, it makes it stronger!"

"Yeah, it made it stronger. That cure's also the reason you're sittin' here tonight without gloves on. Call it a silver lining or whatever you want, but you can control it now. You reacted on gut instinct when that guy grabbed you; I'd have cut him clean through before I'd stopped if it had been me. But you're not hurtin' anybody now. It isn't like it used to be."

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and glanced over at the kids laughing in the booth, her gaze lingering on Bobby for a long time. "I used to think I'd give anything to be able to touch someone, just to enjoy normal human contact, same as everybody else. Now, I can, but it doesn't matter."

"Course it matters. What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

Shrugging, she cocked her head. "He stayed with me for two years, Logan. Do you realize that? I dated Bobby Drake for two years. All that time, we couldn't touch. I loved him, and I thought he loved me; I knew about his hopes and his dreams and his family but I didn't have the slightest idea what his skin felt like, or what it might be like to really kiss him beyond a peck. When I came back, after the cure, I was so scared to face everybody but I was also so excited. I thought finally, it was going to be normal between him and I. He found me in my room a couple hours after I got back, and he held my hand, and I felt his skin. Things were going to be perfect then, I was so sure of it, but it's like the day after I walked in all cured, he lost interest. He's too nice of a guy to say so outright, but he says it a hundred other ways."

Back in the booth, Bobby was holding onto Kitty's hand, squeezing it tight. She was laughing, he was grinning, they looked like they were both in on some great joke, but I could see the pain all over Rogue's face, like she'd just been crushed.

"Aw, now kid --"

"I'm not a kid, remember?" Anger, for a minute, just a sharp flint spark, and then a smile. "Let's not talk about this anymore, okay? Pour me another drink, will you?" The bottle was half gone, somehow. I'd only drank three shots, and Rogue seemed to notice. "Some for you too, I'm not drinking alone!"

Whiskey tasted like forgiveness, and her lips tasted like sin. Just for a moment, she leaned across my lap, one palm flat against my thigh, and kissed me before I even knew what she was doing.

"Sorry," she said, the coquette, as she withdrew. "Just wanted to see what that was like, and to thank you for putting up with me. I'm really not myself tonight, I guess. Must be Bobby, and everything that happened at the riot."

"Can't blame you for feelin' out of sorts what with that creep grabbing you -- and did you just say you wanted to see what that was like?" The thought clicked into place. "Kissin' me, you mean?"

She shrugged, sort of laughing. "Kissing you, yes, and kissing in general. I've wondered about that for a while. I don't really have a lot of experience in that area."

"Wait, now," I said, real slow. Blinking, I shook my head. "You mean to tell me you walk around lookin' like that and nobody's kissed you yet? But, what about the Ice Cube?"

"Bobby did kiss me once, when we were in Boston, but only that one time, and it just lasted a second. I wanted it to be longer, but that was a long time ago, and I would've hurt him if it had been any longer."

"He never kissed you since you got the cure? Since you could?"

"No."

I couldn't even fathom it. Rogue walking around in those tight leather uniforms that trace her curves like skin, and Bobby keeping his hands off. Those lips, pouting and sensuous, always damp because she runs her tongue over them when she's nervous and she's nervous a lot, and he never thought to kiss her. She could touch, bare skin to bare skin, and he never wanted --

"I don't believe it."

She snorted a little. "Believe it, Logan. He never wanted me, not like that, not as someone he could touch, someone he had a physical relationship with. I'm not sure what he wanted, really; looks like Kitty might have the answer. But I don't care. I really don't. Let's not talk about this anymore. I want to enjoy the rest of the evening. I think I might get a pina colada after all; the whiskey's getting to me."

"Not that. You don't want to mess with mixing up alcohol, might make you sick." I ordered a whiskey sour for her. "That might taste a little better." I lit a cigar for myself and held out a spare. "Want one?"

"Nah, but I want a dance partner."

"I don't dance, kid. Might ruin my image. Can't scare the boys and keep 'em in line if they see me out doing the waltz with a pretty girl."

Her laughter was infectious. "All right then, you just sit on your barstool and watch. I'm going to dance." She glanced over to where Bobby and Kitty sat; St John had found himself a partner and they were discreetly smoking cigarettes in a shadowy corner, like he thought he was getting away with something. Rogue's hips twitched and twisted, keeping up with the tempo of the music playing over the speakers. She grinned. Every movement made my blood boil a degree hotter and kicked up my pulse another notch until my jeans started to feel too tight for comfort and my thoughts swam, not from the alcohol, but because she intoxicated me.

After ten minutes, she slid back over to the bar, pleased with herself. The few patrons eyed her enthusiastically but they kept their distance. I guess I was radiating ownership, and anyway, she was hangin' on me. She poured herself a whiskey, spilled it down her front, laughed, and slumped against my shoulder.

"I'm feelin' kinda funny," she said slowly, her words punctuated with giggles.

"Drunk, more than likely. C'mon, you three, let's head back to the hotel," I called over to Bobby and Kitty, and beckoned St John as I slung an arm around Rogue's shoulders to keep her upright.

Bobby frowned. "The pizza's not finished."

"Then get a box for it." I handed him a couple of twenties. "Pay the bill before you leave; this should take care of it. If you want anything else, get it to go. I'm taking Rogue out to the van; anybody isn't out in five minutes we'll pick you up in the morning before we drive back to New York." With that, I helped Rogue gain an unsteady footing and glide through the door. She laughed a little, and tried to articulate something that came out as gibberish. "Don't worry, kid, we'll get you home safe."

"I said," she hissed into my ear, "I'm not ready to go." Her hot breath tickled my skin and I had to shift to cover up the sudden desire evident on my face.

"You're drunk as hell, kid. You've had enough."

"But I want to kiss you again. Mmm, Logan, I just want to kiss you again, okay? Just once?" Her voice was all pleading and beggin' as though I had any intention of denying her, and we sort of slid together right next to the van, her feet slipping in the snow and my arms holding her up. I pressed her against the van, then opened the door and pushed her inside a little, half wantin' to get her in her seat, half wantin' to kiss her forever. Her mouth was so warm, I kissed her back a lot rougher than I meant to, but she responded all the same.

"We've gotta stop, kid," I warned her, pulling away just before Bobby saw us as the kids trooped out of the building carrying boxes of pizza and bread, oblivious. "C'mon, sit up." Somehow, I got the seatbelt on her and closed her door before she slumped and rested her head against the window. I got into my own seat, watched the kids argue good naturedly about the radio station before we took off, speeding down the highway towards the hotel a couple of miles away.

St John leaned forward. "Is Rogue okay?"

"Fine. Sit back."

"She looks drunk."

"She is. Now sit back."

He gave me a look like he was pissed off but he complied and kept silent the rest of the drive. Bobby and Kitty looked at each other, meaningful looks that seemed to be exchanging a lot of secrets in the quickest of glances, but Rogue didn't notice. She closed her eyes and leaned back, one bare hand resting on the arm rest so that I could feel the heat of her. In the compartment of the van, the scent of whiskey was overwhelming. I smelled the kids too; innocent rush of pheromones from Bobby and some kind of sugary, flowery shampoo on Kitty's hair. St John smelled like stolen cigarettes and hot ash. Trying to ignore him, I floored it, speeding down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

We got to the hotel in no time. Bobby and Kitty hurried off, chattin' so nervously it was obvious what they were up to. He reached for her arm, sort of touched her then saw me watchin' and let go like he'd been stung by something. They kind of bounced off each other, far enough apart to put a good look on it, never too far though. St John lingered, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes narrowed.

"You sure she's all right? She looks like she's going to fall over," he remarked as I helped Rogue slide out of the seat. She'd almost fallen asleep during the ride, but she'd woken right up again, cheery and bleary and her bare hands reaching out for either of us. "Here, I can help her back to her room."

I gave him a look that warned him off, so harsh that he took a step back. "Sure you will, bub. No, I've got 'er. Do me a favor, will you? Singe the ice cube's hair when you see him next."

He looked confused for a moment, and blinked, unsure what I meant. Then he nodded and uttered a harsh laugh that sounded strained. "Oh, you mean Bobby? Yeah." He glanced down at Rogue, who beamed up at him, her eyes slitted. "He's a fucking bastard for what he's doing to her. She loves him. I don't know what she sees in him, but she loves him, and he's flirting with Kitty and on the make for every other available girl, mutant or not." He gave sort of a shudder, like the idea of a non-mutant girl disgusted him. I knew why, or could guess anyway. Some mutants have it easy; they grow up in great homes with parents who understand them or at least give it a try, but not Pyro. Nobody really knows his history, 'cept he doesn't have family like Bobby did up in Boston, and he'd been hurt by some prejudiced types along the way. Of course, the time he spent with Magneto couldn't have helped.

"He doesn't know what he's got right here," I said, squeezing Rogue a little tighter. "All right, kid, better get you off to bed. Hey, Johnny, you check in with Storm for me, will you? Let her know we got back all right, no trouble, and we'll go with Chuck to the courthouse in the morning if he needs us. I'm gonna drop Rogue off and turn in myself."

"Yeah, okay. G'night Rogue."

"Night Johnny," she sort of sighed, eyes closed. She was falling asleep again, drifting on her feet, so I pulled her a little closer and then gave up the pretense as St John disappeared and just picked her up. She settled easy into my arms like she was comfortable there, and it felt right. With one hand she touched my hair and kind of smiled, then she was still.

I got her to her room and put her down on the bed, nice and easy. I got her shoes off of her feet no problem, but then I stood back for a couple of minutes, debating whether I ought to try and wake her up so she could dress herself, or if I should do it. Course I wasn't modest or afraid; I've seen more naked women than I can count, but this was Rogue. If she looked a little older, radiated sexuality like a conquest, she was still my little Marie, the kid. I'd never laid a finger on her in lust. Well, maybe that isn't wholly true. I'd desired her before, or let the thought work it's way into a cozy corner of my mind, but I'd never tried anything. The most I did was hug her a little too tight, or shift at the right moment when she passed in the halls so our bodies might brush.

She saved me the trouble of deciding what to do when she opened her eyes. "Hey," she whispered, drunk and somber, half asleep. "Can you hand me that nightgown out of my suitcase?"

"Yeah." I tossed over the scrap of fabric. "Want me to leave?"

"No, no, just turn your back while I change, okay?"

I turned, but I could still see her reflection in the mirror directly in front of me, and like any red blooded man I stood still and watched, my eyes getting big as she lifted up her shirt, exposing a cream colored bra that she unsnapped easy as anything. Wriggling around, she slid out of her uniform pants and threw them onto the floor. Her hair got in her eyes and she brushed it out of the way absently, pulling on the pajamas.

"You can look now."

Slumped back against the pillow in a little piece of white cotton, she looked unbelievable. Her lips were real red, but not from lipstick. There was nothing artificial, not a hint of makeup, just the ghost of her perfume left, barely detectable. Her eyes were shining deep brown and curious but sort of happy too, sparkling a little, and her hair fell over her shoulders, mostly brown except for the pale streak.

"God, kid," I kind of breathed out. I caught myself though, caged the beast. "You look really pretty," I said, like something one of those boys she was friends with would say, kind of timid like too. I couldn't tell her she was gorgeous, that I wanted her, that my blood sang songs of lust dedicated to her in that moment. My gaze dropped to the floor as though I was shy to look at her, and she sort of smiled and patted the spot beside her on the bed.

"Stay a few minutes, okay, Logan?"

"Yeah, all right, kid." I sat down on the bed beside her, just on the edge so not to spook her. My body was givin' off all kinds of scent, but she didn't have my senses so she probably couldn't tell, might just be reading the faint scent of musk in the air that hovered between us.

"Are you angry?" she asked after a couple of seconds. I must have shown confusion on my face, because she shrugged a little and picked at an imaginary speck of lint before saying, "about me kissing you, I mean? I probably shouldn't have." Her gaze dropped so she was staring at the blanket instead of at me. "I've really wanted for a long time and I guess I didn't think it through. Having this control -- I should've waited."

Reaching for her hand, I slid over a little closer. "Are you kidding? It was great. Look, kid, don't worry about stuff like that. I get it, you wanted to know what it was like, now you know. Hope I haven't ruined it for you," I added, jokingly to cheer her up. "It's been a while for me."

Her face burned red, her cheeks blushing hot. "I thought you were really good. Actually, it was better than I thought it would be."

She was radiating heat off her body, just beggin' for me to get a little closer, so I did. I draped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my body, feeling a rush of intoxication like the whiskey's I'd had back at the bar had finally kicked in. "Good enough that you might want to try it again? We've got ourselves some privacy now."

Her dark eyes shone as she looked up at me, her somber mood gone and replaced with nervous apprehension and excitement. Delicately, she reached up one hand and placed it, palm flat, against my cheek. The warmth of her body made me close my eyes for a minute, just 'cause it felt so good, and before she could answer me one way or the other, I leaned forward and kissed her.

It started out rough. I caught a fistful of her hair to guide her, and because I thought her modesty might get the best of her and make her pull away now that she was a bit more sober. I licked her mouth and she parted her lips slowly, yielding to me as my tongue slipped past her lips and caught her taste. She raked her fingernails down my back, sharp, just the way I like it, and the heat of her breath billowed against my neck.

Somehow, we ended up horizontal. I leaned her back, letting her relax under me, and my hand slid into the cotton nightgown, craving the feel of her. My mind was howling, rejoicing at my ability to touch her now, after so many months of gloves and long sleeves. Truth was, I would've risked her power for a kiss, but she'd have felt so guilty after I couldn't make myself do it. She kissed me back, tentative at first and then warming up, her hands going under my shirt and caressing the skin of my back.

"You need me to stop?" I asked her, because despite the Wolverine howling and urging me on, I managed to remember that she was Rogue and that she wasn't ready, probably.

She shook her head. "No." As if to prove her point, she arched her hips beneath me, rubbing against my erection, and her fingers fumbled around my belt buckle, looking for a way to undo it.

I kissed her neck and her shoulder, giving her an affectionate nip with my teeth but being careful not to draw any blood from her. She pushed me away and I pulled back, thinking' she'd had enough and trying to figure out how I was going to make it through the night without her, but all she wanted was to slip out of the nightgown. She tried to sit up and lift the thing over her head, but I grabbed a handful and tore it off of her. It got dropped carelessly on the floor and my shirt joined it a moment later.

While she writhed underneath me, I kissed her all over, pausing to lick her throat like a predator. I could feel the subtle rhythm of her pulse beneath her skin and it made me crazy. My hands roamed her body and I let her touch me back, letting her explore my body. It was all unfamiliar to her, and she seemed curious but also urgent, batting those eyelashes at me.

"When are you gonna take this off, sugar?" she asked sweetly, tapping the belt buckle.

"You want it off, you got it off," I told her, and unhooked it quickly, tossing the belt aside. I kicked off my jeans and kissed her real hard, then I slid myself against her, letting her feel my arousal. She shuddered underneath me and kissed me back, following my lead. I could feel the dampness of her body. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin, and her panties were soaked. I caught hold of the panties and ripped them right off, causing her to gasp in surprise before grinding against me.

Her hair stuck to her forehead and she brushed it aside, touching my face again. "Logan," she whispered, making me shiver. I'd never made love to a woman, never slept with a woman who knew my name. It was different with Rogue than with anyone else. I sort of marveled as I looked her over; this was Rogue, who I protected, who I loved, so much better than a faceless fuck I'd met in a bar. I felt kinda unworthy as she stared up at me, warm and welcoming.

"You sure you want this, kid?"

"Definitely," she said, and her fingers slid down to my hip to prove it.

She didn't have to ask twice. Poised over her, I took a good look at her face, drinking in the sight of her eyes half closed, her hair in glossy tangles, her cheeks pink. Then I took her, and she screamed and clutched me, and I went a little wild. With the sound of my name echoing in my ears, I grabbed her and bent to kiss her, finding a rhythm and guiding her hips so she joined me. Her breath came out in little startled bursts, and she opened her eyes for a minute, and they were all shiny and bright. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck, murmuring into my ear.

The Wolverine surfaced and I sped up some, making her cry out in a way that made me shiver. She wrapped her legs around my body, fusing us together so close I felt like I'd probably die when there was cold air around me again instead of her body heat. Keeping the pace, I licked her breasts and then kissed her again, making all sorts of promises and declarations. I lost my hold on consciousness as the Wolverine took over, and started seeing things in flashes: here, her bare stomach beneath my fingers; there her bucking against me, letting me go deeper inside her body. I kissed and nipped, holding her tight all the while like I was never going to let go. Finally, it was all over and I felt all my energy leave my body just for a few seconds. I slumped against her, holding her hand tight and kissing her still, even as her eyelids fluttered and she relaxed completely, already half asleep.

"Kid? Hey, kid -- Rogue," I amended real quick, because what we'd just done wasn't childish at all and I owed her that. "Are you okay?"

She nodded tiredly and smiled at me, closing her eyes. "Mmm, yeah, Logan, I'm great." She opened her eyes just for second and looked at me. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I ought to be worshippin' at your feet," I answered back, and it wasn't a line. Despite her inexperience, she was the best I'd ever had. Our bodies had moved in a kind of harmony I hadn't ever known before, and it had been her, in a room suffused with her smell, with her voice callin' out. I shivered a little, looking at her. Her face was smooth, peaceful, her eyes closed again. Her hair was a halo of brown and she was just lyin' there without a stitch on, not even caring anymore. I was sort of moved by the miracle of her, and lustin' for her again already. I kept my hands off though, 'cause I could see she was worn out, so I settled for planting a kiss on her forehead and drawing back.

She sensed the movement of the mattress as I got up, and opened her eyes once more. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my room."

"Why?"

I had no answer for her, no answer I wanted to give anyway. In the past, when I'd slept with someone I'd met in a bar or at a fight, I'd always left right after. There had never been anyone I'd wanted to stay the night with; when the sex was done, I usually sauntered out for a beer and a bite to eat, or continued on my way, but not only couldn't I do that to Rogue, I didn't really want to go. I wanted to stay where she was, to watch over her, to feel her stir in the night, to fall asleep to her heartbeat and the sounds of her breathing.

"You want me to stay?"

She nodded a little. "Yeah, unless you've got someplace to go."

"I haven't got anything more important than you," I told her. I dropped the pair of jeans I'd been about to put on and switched off the lamp before crawling back into the bed. She slid over to give me room and let me hold her close so that her head rested on my chest. Within a few seconds, she was asleep. Her breathing took on a gentle rhythm and she laid still. I touched her hair for a while, sort of rubbed her back too, but pretty soon the alertness I've always known faded a little and I was able to fall asleep, with Rogue in my arms.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of hours later, I awoke with a start. I felt like I did whenever I woke up from one of those nightmares about Stryker and that facility I was in, where they did something to me, changed me forever, except this time, instead of hazy recollections of flashing lights and strange medicines, the one thing on my mind was Rogue.

She had shifted in the night and was lyin' flat on her back with one arm curved over her head, lookin' peaceful as anything. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steady, but I listened real close and watched her for a long minute anyway, just to make sure she was okay. In spite of all the fading nightmares, she was fine. I looked her over, touching her real careful so as not to wake up, just not willing to let go.

For a second, I started to calm down. I told myself it was just the old nightmares, and that I'd instinctively thought Rogue was in danger because she'd been the last person I'd thought of before falling asleep. I took a couple of breaths and sort of waited a moment, still tense, listening really carefully for the sounds of footsteps or someone else's breathing. There was nobody in the room though, and the door was still locked.

I glanced down at Rogue and felt a shiver of wantin' go through my whole body, strong enough to make my knees buckle, but mingled with the rising lust was complete self-hatred. She looked so pure and innocent restin' there on the bed that smelled of our sweat and sex, completely vulnerable and peaceful, and I had taken her, left her sore and exhausted and reeking of my scent. Virginity, purity -- none of that meant anything to me, except she was still so young, and I knew that stuff mattered to her. She'd mentioned, in a journal I should never have read but had read anyway, that she wanted her first time to be special. She'd written of the whole sweet fantasy, flower petals strewn on the bed, candles burning and music playing. She'd wanted romance, and Drake, of course. Instead she'd had me, before she was ready, in an anonymous hotel room, while she was drunk. I should have taken care of her, but I'd turned into the predator instead of the protector. I felt more ashamed of myself than I had ever before, at least from what I could remember.

I was suddenly scared as hell too, worried 'bout what she would say when she woke up and saw me there. I imagined her judging me, her eyes widening in horror or narrowing with disgust; I imagined her pulling away when I reached for her. I thought she might accuse me of takin' advantage, and her accusations would be true of course. Things were goin' to change, I knew that. She might even want the whole relationship bit, but I couldn't do that, not even for her. That was for guys like Cyke, not me. I was independent, I walked through the world alone and I didn't think I could give that up, not even for Marie.

I got dressed quick then, pulled on last night's jeans and shirt and raked my fingers through my hair because it was all standin' on end. Then I watched her for a minute, scared to stay but not ready to go just yet. I let her image burn into my mind, every fragment of her form scorching me like a tattoo I would never forget. Then I kissed her cheek and then her hand, and then I was gone. The trip to my unused room took less than a minute, and packing was nothing, since I'd never unpacked. I shouldered my gear and hurried out. Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, it was just about dawn so no one was awake yet to confront. The parking lot was snowy and still, and there was just a little gold shining on the horizon to indicate the rising sun.

Passing over the van, I found a motorcycle parked a little ways away and unguarded. My conscience didn't bother me about it, never had when it came to taking what I needed, so I fired it up and peeled out of the lot, not sure where I was going or what I would do. There was some money in my pocket - Chuck paid me pretty well - so I had a couple of hundred dollars on me, but only one change of clothes and nothing' much else. Didn't matter though; the wind blew through my hair and I started to feel a little more alive and a little less panicky. Rogue was a few miles away now, still asleep, I guessed, and even though guilt at leaving her without sayin' goodbye made me feel guilty, I stopped feeling quite so scared.

I got off the highway onto a dirt road where no one would bother to look if the thought to search for me, then headed north like always. There were a few small towns along my drive but I didn't stop at any of them, even though I was getting hungry for breakfast. The wintry air called to me and I knew it was just a few miles until I could cross the border. I had some ID on me, a fake one, of course, that Chuck had given me a while back, so I knew I could get across to Canada without a hassle. After that I was just running, running blind, and on my way right back to where I'd been before I'd ever come across that girl in the heavy cape who wandered in to the bar in time to watch me fight. I was going home, or as near to home as I'd ever had, to the fight circuit, to the bars with their comfortable whiskey scent, to living on my own without any bright eyed girls to make me feel all tangled up and confused inside. I told myself I'd forget about her on the way, but I knew even then it was a lie.


	4. Chapter 4

_Three months later_

Another fight, another faceless broad clappin' her hands and screamin' for me from her front row seat in the small dirt-floor room where the cage had been set up. She'd been practically jumpin' out of her chair since she'd walked in, eagerness and perspiration visible on her face. She was ageless; the best of the bar girls all were, distinct from the tired hags that lingered in the shadows, cacklin' and beggin' for money, flirtin' in a way that turned even my iron stomach. Her hair was brown but smelled funny even from a distance, like maybe she dyed it, so she could've been grey underneath for all I knew. For all I cared. There was a thick layer of makeup painted on to her face, accentuating the few wrinkles rather than hiding them, but it wasn't as much as some of the others, and she looked a little less worn out and not near so plumb exhausted than the ones that got passed around a lot.

I'd found myself a job fightin' the night after I drove away and left Rogue asleep. My guilt plagued me all the way across the Canadian border, kept nippin' at my heels whenever I slowed down and thought about her. I imagined what she must have felt, waking up in that empty bed, naked in the cold room. She must have been hopeful for a few minutes; she might have thought I'd went to my own room to sleep in peace, or to put Chuck off the trail of what we'd done, or maybe she'd thought I'd gone in search of breakfast and hot coffee like I did at the mansion first thing when I woke up. I pictured her riffling through the scraps of her pretty nightgown, clutching the pieces to her body maybe and then getting dressed, taking a hot bath to soothe the soreness that inevitably accompanied a woman's first time. In my mind's eye, I could see her dabbing experimentally at the blood between her thighs, blood I'd called to the surface, full of questions without answers, her mouth still tasting of me but her arms empty. I could kid myself, tell myself she was a tough girl and that she'd be fine, but I knew it wasn't the truth. Rogue wasn't the sappy type, but she would have wanted me there, to question me, to let me hold her, who knows what she might have needed. And I hadn't been there at all.

The first fight bar I'd come across had a little silver bus out front. It transported some sort of team of hired fighters who were all paid a pittance 'cause none of 'em were any good. I took that rage and shame within me and let it fuel my demonstration; kicked the tar out of some guy in the center of the ring, then took on another guy when he jumped in to defend his buddy. The manager offered me a job that night, touring around Alberta and the Northwest Territories, sometimes headin' over to Ontario and then back west to Manitoba, putting on shows in seedy bars and dusty gymnasiums, wherever a small town could make space to see some poor saps beat each other to pulp.

It was the real thing, not staged live some of the big league television stuff, and I was glad. I wanted to ache for as long as I could before the healin' set in, and I wanted to make someone else suffer too, 'cause it made my pain a little bit easier to bear. Using the guys on my team as punching bags, I practiced, told myself I was getting back into prime shape, even though the Danger Room in the mansion had kept me damn sharp. The more I fought and the more beer I drank, the less I thought of Rogue. She was always there though, waiting for a weak moment to distract me. Whenever I saw a young brunette in the crowd, my breath froze in my lungs and I couldn't think straight for a few seconds; I'd stand still and let my opponent beat on me a bit, hardly even noticin' how it hurt. I dreamt of her every night, no variation, but it was worse than the Alkali Lake nightmares, because in those, at least I was the good guy, and in my dreams about Rogue, I was always the villain.

"C'mon!" called my opponent, pulling me out of my daydreams. He waved his clenched hands, naively challenging me. "You want a fight or what?"

Like all the rest, he was just a blur to me, only fists-gut-face, a target, something to beat and subdue. He was a foolish one, young, cocky and urgent, wanting to prove himself to his friends and draw the attention of the females in the audience. Their screams and cheers whipped up his excitement and he curled his fingers into a fist. I took no notice of any of them, just let my eyes flick over the brunette, like I always did when I saw a girl with that color hair, but she wasn't Marie, so I stopped watching her and stepped forward.

"You sure you want this?" I asked the guy, looking him over. He was tall but wiry, and along with not havin' much muscle tone he looked sort of sickly. He was riding high mostly on pride and adrenaline, and he had nothing on me.

He laughed loud, relieved, like he thought I was frightened. "You're trying to put me off? No way, man. The pot's up to $950, and it'll all be mine once I kick your ass."

"You try, then, bub. You give it your best shot."

He ran toward me awkwardly, arranging his arms for maximum damage, but I caught him quickly, and with a single punch to the gut I had him down on his knees, whimpering for breath. Flecks of blood flew out of his mouth, staining his chin red. Droplets landed on the cage floor, mingling with the blood and sweat of the others I'd fought.

"Christ," he muttered, shaking himself.

I let him get a punch in, because one of the girls in the audience, a petite red-head with bouncing curls and a fresh face, was calling out a name that wasn't mine, and I didn't want to embarrass him too bad in front of his girl. Pretending to double over, I winked at the brunette and then rose up, administering the single punch it took to knock the guy unconscious.

"Another win," the ref hollered, but I saw the tour manager beckon to me, so instead of standing around waiting to take another ignorant soul on, I stepped out of the cage. A few guys drew back when I stalked past, like they thought I was so full of malice I'd start somethin' with them just for the hell of it.

"Take a break, Logan," the manager said. He was a solid man but gone to seed. There were some muscles on that frame still, but he had a pot belly and his hair had liberal streaks of white in it. He had balls, I gotta admit, to boss the fighters around like he did. "I know you can take it," he went on when I made to refuse, "but we're here to give the people a show. They need to see somebody from the team lose. Keep this up and no one will fight you. They want to see a mere mortal out in the ring, someone they can cheer for yeah, but a guy who has his flaws too."

"I've got my flaws," I told him, lighting a cigar. "All right, I'll get a drink, take a walk, and then I want back in."

He shook his head. "Nah, this place is just about done for. Don't waste your ability on a couple of tired old locals. Get some sleep, have a decent meal, and gear up for tomorrow. I'm not puttin' you on much after tomorrow. I want you fresh for our next destination."

"I will be," I assured him. "Where are we goin'?"

"I'm not sure yet, buddy. There are a couple of good offers, and tonight's show will definitely raise the stakes. Wherever wants to pay the most, I say. Figure I'll make some calls later, once I know what we're taking from this fight."

"Good call. All right, I'll be in the motel." I hooked my thumb in the direction the cheap motel across the road from the bar. It wasn't much to look at, just a weathered one story badly in need of a paint job. The remains of a dead garden peeked out from under the thick cover of snow, and there was a little diner right next to the main office, which wasn't fancy but served good burgers. The bar kept the liquor flowing late into the night, so people came in and out of that diner all hours. The only other thing nearby was a gas station, so I didn't have a lot of entertainment options. I considered the suggestion of rest, but I didn't need it; I'd be healed in ten minutes and as alert as if I'd slept for hours.

"Beer," I demanded of the bartender, leaning up against the counter for a moment. I had a reputation among the other fighters for drinkin' like a fish. A lot of people made the mistake of thinking I got drunk and sloppy the way they did, and challenged me to some fights on the side because of it, but they learned quick. I didn't drink to relax, like some of them did, or to ease the pain in my body after a fight, because it was gone quick and anyway I deserved the minimal amount I felt. I drank to get Rogue off my mind, to quiet her insistent voice and the whispers that rang in my ears.

Inhaling off the cigar deeply, I took a look around. The bar was typical for up north, adorned with antlers and the stuffed heads of old kills. A few relics, like an old set of snow shoes, hung on the wall, and of course there were hunting pictures too, a bunch of men hovering around dead things looking pleased as punch by it. It smelled like up north too: the off brand whiskey and stale cigarettes, the peanut shells crunched underfoot, sour perfume that tingled my senses.

Not many people were at the bar, since the fights were goin' on. I could hear people cheering faintly, and then groaning as a favorite amateur took a beating. The sounds of flesh meeting flesh turned my stomach some, but the beer settled it. I took hold of the can, dropped a few coins in the tip jar and sauntered out, intending to order something from the diner and have dinner alone in my room.

"Excuse me!"

I turned around, and just for a second, my breath caught in my lungs. I felt my eyes go wide, because I was looking at Rogue. Then the woman lifted her face to meet mine and I realized of course she wasn't Rogue at all. She was a good ten years older, though she was fairly pretty. It was the woman who had watched my fight, the one with the artificial hair color and a lot of face paint.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering - you look sort of lonely. You want some company?" She smiled, the artificial red of her lipstick making it look macabre, and she stepped closer. Up close, she was less pretty, the thick layer of foundation darker than her skin and making her look wrong somehow. In the outdoor light, she looked older than I'd suspected, more like the whores waiting in the bar. I couldn't believe I'd mistaken her for Rogue, 'cept maybe I'd wanted her so badly, I'd seen what I wanted to see.

I shook my head. "No thanks."

She pouted, or made some gesture with her mouth anyway, and drew even closer until we were practically touching. I could smell her perfume. It was supposed to be scented of flowers, but it was too strong, or she'd applied too much. She was wearing a white coat with black stripes on it, imitation zebra or something, and a black dress that was too tight for her body. Her hips were ample, breasts even more so, and as she caught me noticing', she smiled like she'd won a prize.

"Aw, are you sure? It certainly is cold, maybe I can buy you a cup of coffee?"

I held up the beer. "Don't need it."

"Well," she said, shrugging her shoulders lightly and pulling the coat around herself tightly, "I'm sorry I couldn't interest you in some conversation. I'm kind of lonesome up here, all by myself. I'm driving to Montreal, and I don't know this area very well." She batted her eyelashes forcefully, and I gave her a second glance. The make-up suddenly didn't seem so obvious, and when I looked closer at her hair I noticed there were pale blonde highlights among the dark brown of it, reminding me a little of Rogue's colors. "See you later, I guess."

I let her walk away, torn between slinking off to my room and calling out for her to come back. She'd been right; I was lonely, and it was damn cold in Nunavut during the middle of winter. I missed being with a woman and I was desperate for some sort of touch, even though I knew the meaningless fuck with some stranger wouldn't compare to my night with Rogue. I let her go though, watched as the pronounced motion of her hips attracted a few stares.

She paused at the edge of the parking lot. "I guess you couldn't tell me where there's a decent place to eat around here?" she called over to me.

I pointed back towards the diner. "The Lamplight's the only place I know of 'round here. It's nothin' fancy, but the food is good and the prices fair." I studied her for a moment and surrendered. "C'mon, I'll walk you. I was going to get some take-out anyway."

Her smile was very bright and she nodded with satisfaction. "That would be great!"

She ran across the parking lot real quick and joined me. She edged a little too close for comfort when we walked past a few bikers, but I put up with it. She seemed sort of scared and definitely out of her element once I got a good look at her. All of a sudden I felt confused, because her skin looked fresh and dewy, and her hair was lustrous, with two very pale sections framing her face. She still didn't look exactly like Rogue - no one would have mistaken them except me, because I longed for Rogue so bad - but there was a slight resemblance, though at the time I thought it was just my wishful thinkin' makin' her look like that.

"You look different."

Her eyes looked frightened for a minute but she disguised her fear with a laugh. "Do I? I guess it must be the light. In the bar, you looked a lot scarier than you do now."

"It's not just that," I said, but I didn't elaborate as I pushed open the door to the diner and watched her loosen her coat. "I'm beat, so I'm gettin' mine to go. Nice to meet ya, uh --"

"Marion," she spoke up quickly, with a nervous smile. She held out her hand, and I saw she was wearing a pair of nylon gloves, not the type a person would usually wear in winter, but similar to the ones Rogue often wore before taking the cure. "But I prefer Mary."

"Logan." I took her hand briefly, and let my fingers stroke the glove material for a few seconds. I missed Rogue real bad in that moment, and frowned, thinkin' I ought to skip dinner and get a couple bottles of whiskey instead, to shut her out of my mind.

"Wait! Um, wait, will you? Look, I don't know how to ask you this, and you've been so kind already, but do you think I could persuade you to let me eat in your room? Some of the guys around here are pretty creepy and I'm sort of scared to be on my own right now. Please, just for a little while. I wouldn't think to ask, but my car broke down and I have to stay in town another few days, and I want to avoid the hassle."

I shook my head and stepped up to the counter. The waitress scribbled down my order on a note pad and had me sign the bill over to my motel room. "Just a minute, honey," she chirped.

"Please?" asked Mary again.

"I got to get some rest. I'll see you around." With that, I moved away from her and waited at the far side of the counter until the clerk slid over my cheeseburger and fries. I took the bag and walked out, into the now swirling snow.


	5. Chapter 5

My room was plain, just how I'd left it. There was nothing personal in there to show who I was; I wasn't tryin' to pretend it was home, after all, because home meant Rogue, and she wasn't anywhere near the circuit. The only furniture was a double bed, a table and chair positioned near the window, a little fridge and a mirror on the wall. Nothing belonged to me except the beer in the fridge, the snacks on the table and a clothes in the suitcase I hadn't bothered to unpack. The beige curtains were pulled back to show a drab view of trucks hurtling down the highway. I switched on the TV and unpacked my dinner, reaching into the fridge for a Molson's. I was just starting to eat when there was a knock at the door.

"Yeah?" I called out, thinking it was the manager callin' me back for another round or else one of the guys dropping by to congratulate me. They still made a habit of chattin' at the end of the night, like they hadn't learned yet that I always won and that their opinions didn't matter much to me.

"Logan?" A woman's voice, sharp and artificial.

With a sigh, I got up from the table and went to open the door. There was Mary, standing there in the hall lookin' hopeful and holding up a cup of something. She had her own dinner in a little white paper bag in her other hand.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you," she said, pushing past me into the motel room and taking a look around. "But you left your milkshake on the counter back at the restaurant, so I asked for your room number so I could take it to you." She tried to thrust the cup I into my hand but I drew back from her touch. Her gloves felt like snakeskin under my fingers, and she smelled dangerous.

"I didn't order a shake."

She blushed a little, scared. "Oh, didn't you? I was sure you had."

"You know I didn't. You're up to something, so spit it out; what exactly do you want?" I growled a little, low in my throat, to indicate that I meant business.

She set the shake down on top of the TV and spared a glance at the screen for a second. "All right," she said uneasily, "you caught me. I am sorry, but I had to think of some way to see you again. You can have the shake if you want, it's bought and paid for."

"What do you want?" I knew the answer to that already, of course. She smelled hot and needy, but there was a cruel edge to her, like she wouldn't expect tenderness or sweet sentiments, and just wanted something quick and meaningless. I wasn't inclined to trust her though, until she tilted her face to mine and showed me her eyes. They were dark brown, dewy and innocent.

"I was hoping you and I could spend some time together," she cooed gently, and sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little to test the firmness of the mattress. "I like you, Logan. I don't think you realize how sexy you are."

"Uh huh, and what's in it for you, k -- Mary?" I had almost said kid. Mary kicked off her shoes comfortably and settled into a graceful position on the bed, eyeing me with those molasses colored eyes, pursing her petal pink lips into a shy smile. She had apparently wiped off the garish makeup since the diner, because her face was clean. Underneath the open zebra coat, her figure was curvy and the black dress clung to it, accentuating her form. I felt sick watching her, and weak, disgusted with the desire flowing through me, yet not quite able to turn away.

She shrugged and gave a girlish giggle. "Oh, come on, Logan, you're a man of the world, I think you can guess what I'd get out of it." She leaned forward and patted my arm, smiling like a spider with a fly in it's grasp. "What do you say?"

Finding some kind of strength, I shook my head. "I say, get out," I told her angrily, clenching my jaw to keep from saying more. I wrenched her off the bed, pulling her by her arm, and I nearly got her to the door before she leaned against me and pressed her lips to mine.

Her kisses were nothing like Rogue's. She used pressure and manipulation, aiming to seduce, and when I reached for her to push her away, I touched bare flesh. She had pulled the tight dress up for me, allowing me access to her body. Almost unwillingly, my hands slid over her thighs, then up to her stomach, but then I froze. There were scars there, just three thin ridges mostly faded and healed, but I recognized the mark of my claws.

"Mmm," moaned Mystique, laughing at me as I gaped at her. Any resemblance to Rogue was gone, replaced by Mystique's own distinctive features. Her skin was tinted blue again, but as I grabbed her roughly by her upper arms, she reclaimed Rogue's form and looked at me with horror-stricken brown eyes instead of bright yellow ones. "Don't hurt me, Logan, please," she whispered hoarsely in Marie's Mississippi drawl, biting her bottom lip the way Rogue did and pouting up at me.

I let go of her, and quick as a flash my claws were out. I hadn't seen them in months - I'd kept the form of my mutation under wraps even after the tour manager realized he had a mutant on his hands - and the pain between my knuckles was sharp, but welcome. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Before she could answer, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and backed her up against the wall, the claws of my right hand pressing against the tender skin of her throat. She still had Rogue's face, and I pushed against her a little too much without meaning to, placing my thigh between her legs to brace her against the wall. "What do you want? How did you find me?"

"Relax, sweetheart," she said softly, although she looked tense. She twisted out of my grip easily, turning back into herself and side-stepping me when I lunged forward to grab her again. "Calm down, or you'll regret it."

"You can't do anything to me, Mystique."

"Maybe not. But," she said softly, and turned back into Rogue again, "I can hurt her, and I will, unless you listen to what I have to say. So sit down, Logan, and put those claws away, or you'll live to regret it."

Hating her, I stayed where I was, but retracted the claws. "Spill it."

"Magneto is assembling an army. He wants Pyro back."

I laughed, a rough sound full of fury. "Magneto lost his powers on Alcatraz, remember? He took four doses of the cure to the chest. What does he think he can accomplish now?"

"You've been out of the loop a long time, haven't you," she noted smoothly. "Magneto has regained every ounce of his former strength and much more. His current powers are far beyond his previous range, as are mine. You miss Rogue, do you?" She sneered, and reached forward, her blue hand turning pale as it touched my arm. "What do you think of this?"

I felt the sudden spark of Rogue's achingly familiar power, and the connection between us opened at once. My thoughts and my memories spilled into her, but it wasn't Rogue, it was Mystique. Weakness flooded me, making me feel sick, and I pulled away before she could inflict more damage.

"That's impossible."

"Not so," she replied, gracefully returnin' to her own shape. She shrugged, tappin' her temple. "Not as interesting as I thought," she said, referring to my memories. "I must have caught the one bland memory in your whole tortured life, Logan. Still, it is a useful gift." She sat down and crossed her bare legs. "I understand that Rogue is also significantly more powerful than she was before receiving the cure. Yes, you've seen some of what she can do," she interrupted as I tried to speak, "but there have been some changes since you've been gone. She has some new powers now, completely different gifts. We would love to have her on our side, but we will settle for Pyro, for now."

"I can't get you John, Missy, you ought to know that much. I'm not part of the team anymore. I left. You'll have to take 'ol Johnny Boy's situation up with Chuck, or find out from the kid himself why he hasn't come back to your side." I glared at her. "Maybe he wised up."

She yawned, tired of my bravado. "As I said, Logan, you are not up to date on what has been happening back at home. Pyro is no longer a guest of the mansion, nor a student at the school. He is being kept prisoner and has been for several weeks, ever since he expressed a desire to return to his rightful place at Magneto's side. Somehow, his powers are being suppressed, or else he would be able to burn down the school and escape weeks ago."

"Bad luck for him."

"And for you. I told you, we will settle for Pyro's safe return, but in his absence, we must recruit new blood, and Magneto's preferred target is Rogue. She's not his type, not like Pyro is, but she'll do, I think. He gets quite a kick out of her, and they do have a certain _history_," she added, eyes shinin'. "Yes, I thought that might perk you up. So, here's the deal, find a way to free Pyro so he can come back to us, or refuse, and we will take Rogue by force. It would be simple," she pointed out. "She goes on missions now, alone or with just one or two other teammates; it would be a cakewalk to ambush them. That great power is a tremendous asset to the X-men, and I hear Cyclops is training her to gain even more control, but she hasn't perfected it yet, and Magneto has his ways of getting around her stubborn streak. Snatching her would be all too easy, outside of the safety of the mansion, even within, if we needed to."

I bared my teeth and the claws sprang loose again, glittering silver. "You leave her alone."

"Then you make a promise, right now, to return to the mansion as friend or foe, and do everything in your power to get Pyro out."

"I can't go back there, you know that. I left 'em, I don't belong on the team anymore. Chuck won't take me back."

She sighed, and her eyes looked weary, like she had not slept in days. "Then figure something out, Logan. How you do it is not my problem, just get it done. I'm not sure how much time you have, but we both know Magneto is not an exceptionally patient man, and he will not restrain himself from taking action if you fail."

I bared my teeth at her, staring her down. "I could kill you right here."

"I suppose so, but I am supposed to rendezvous with Magneto in an hour's time, and if I don't meet the jet at the appointed place, he will become concerned. Our people are waiting all around the mansion and the town; he's had people tailing Rogue in every move she makes, so that if the time comes, she can be captured with minimal fuss and the element of surprise. If I don't show up, he'll assume the worst and have her taken before you'll have time to drive to the border, much less rescue your damsel in distress. Do we have an agreement, then?"

I jerked my head, wordlessly orderin' her to get out, and she did so, but she held her head high and looked proud, even amused. The black dress and zebra coat formed around her blue skin, and then the make-believe Mary's flesh took on a pinkish tone. She winked at me in the foreign form and took her leave, closin' the door softly behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

_Four days later_

Upstate New York felt like a foreign world as I drove through it, tryin' to find the highway that would lead me back to the mansion. There were poplar trees, and oaks still clinging to the last remaining red leaves of autumn even though it was late winter, already closin' in on February. I missed the towering pines, their foliage defiantly green and vibrant against the cold snow. Those dark trees, stripped bare, left me feeling cold, and twice I nearly turned the bike around.

The manager of the fight tour had given me hell when I'd told him I was takin' off. I was the best fighter on the team, and we both knew it; without me, the outfit would lose half of it's booked gigs, and the reputation I'd begun to build for it would be shattered as some inexperienced, poorly-trained guys lost to rowdy amateurs. That wasn't my problem, though, and I didn't consider stickin' around to just to keep the show afloat. The manager yelled at me a while, givin' me tired lines about stuff like loyalty and honor, but my eyes were cold as I looked him over, and I guess he must have realized I wasn't going to be swayed by that kind of talk, because he switched tactics and started offerin' me more money instead. I nearly accepted the improved offer, but he showed me a schedule of upcoming dates and I went cold all over when I read the name Laughlin City on one of the bills, for April. There was no way I'd be able to go back there; none of the bars would host me and there would be trouble if I was recognized, not to mention Rogue's memory would haunt me worse than ever. I thanked him but refused, and he handed over the last of my earnings.

I bought a second hand bike off a guy in the diner with most of my money. He was down on his luck, having spent nearly everything gamblin' on the fights, bettin' on locals mostly, so he was grateful for the cash, especially since the old machine was no looker. It had a liberal amount of rust on the body and the fabric of the seat was torn, but it ran all right. I hauled out of town the day I gave notice, speeding towards home.

In contrast to the strangeness of the rest of the area, the mansion still looked the same. From the road, standing behind the tall iron gate, it looked old and imposing, a towerin' structure perched on a bed of white snow. I found myself riddled with doubt just seeing it again, wonderin' if maybe Rogue had left already. There hadn't been a lot for her to stay for; she'd had been nearly finished with her education before I'd left, and she'd had dreams about going to college and carryin' on a normal life ever since takin' that cure. With her improved control, she could have gone back to stay with her family in Mississippi; nobody would have to know she was a mutant. But still, somehow, I knew she was inside.

It was late afternoon, and the long shadows of the trees were stretching across the snow in the front yard. The snowfall was still white and pristine, though I saw tracks leadin' out towards the back, and I could hear a couple of kids shoutin' and laughin' amongst themselves as they played some kind of game. I gunned the bike and pulled up close to the front door, my heart hammering in my chest as I wondered how it was goin' to go down. Then I climbed off of the motorcycle and took a deep breath before goin' to the door. The knob which usually turned easy in my hand was stiff, and I realized it was locked, so I pounded on the door, impatient. There was a keypad next to it, which hadn't been there before. I didn't know the code, so I just banged louder on the door instead of tryin' to trick my way in.

"Just a sec," came Storm's voice. I cursed under my breath; I'd wanted to see Rogue first, without any obstacles. "I'll be right there," she called out to me, and finally she opened the door a fraction of an inch. Then she froze, the bland smile on her face instantly giving way to a deep, scolding frown. She wrinkled her forehead, like she was confused and tryin' to place me. Then she said, "Logan?"

I nodded, and she moved closer to the door slowly, like a sleep-walker. It took her a few minutes to undo the chain lock, and she looked all bewildered and confused by my appearance. Finally, she pulled the door open all the way and stepped into the doorway, shakin' her head a little. "Logan, is that you?"

"'Course it's me, Storm." Shouldering my pack, I pushed past her, enterin' the mansion. I felt like I was trespassin', actually looked around for some kind of security. Everythin' was essentially the same, but I felt different, like I didn't belong anymore. Furniture had been shifted around and some of it had been replaced, and it all smelled of polish and wax, so sterile and strong that it stung my nose just to breathe in the air. I cut to the chase. "Where's Rogue?"

Ororo bit her lower lip and frowned more deeply at me, studying my face carefully as though she suspected me of something. "Where have you been?"

"Away," I answered simply, but the wrinkle in her brow only deepened, so I elaborated for her. "I was up north, in Canada."

"But, what were you doing up there, and why didn't you ever contact us?"

"I worked a lot is all. Fightin' mostly, and some mechanic work on the side. Look, Storm, there'll be time for catchin' up later, but right now I want to talk to Rogue, and it's damned important, so just tell me where she is, or go get her yourself if you want to, and when I'm finished hashing everythin' out with her I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

She shook her head slowly, and there was a hardness in her expression that I had rarely seen before. She looked stubborn as a mule all of a sudden, and I realized she knew more than she was letting on. "No, I don't think that's a good idea ---"

"Logan?" Chuck's voice cut across Ororo's, silencing her instantly. She kept quiet and we both turned to watch him enter the room. He looked just the same, dignified and kindly, with a knowing expression in his eyes, but there was mistrust there as well, and determination. "You've returned, I see."

"Yeah, I came to talk to Rogue --"

He nodded. "I see." Turnin' to Storm, he bowed his head. "Ororo, I hate to ask, but would you mind excusing us? Logan has plainly traveled a long way, and we have much to discuss. Well, Logan, shall we go into my office?" he asked, once Storm had wandered off. He smiled, like I was his invited guest. "Are you hungry? I'm afraid you've arrived too late for any lunch, and dinner isn't for two hours yet, but I could have some sandwiches sent to my office, if you'd like."

"Not interested, Chuck." I felt as rebellious and out of sorts as I had on my first visit to the mansion, when I had woken up from unconsciousness and found myself reliving my worst nightmares, trapped in a medical laboratory of some kind, surrounded by noxious scents, needles in my arms and devices stuck to my skin. I'd learned later that the doctor stickin' me with those needles was Jean, but at the time, I'd felt like a prisoner, and I'd mocked their school and their code names. I wished I could go back to that day, do it all over again. "All I want is Rogue. I need to see her, I need to let her know somethin'."

"This wouldn't have to do with the encounter the two of you shared during our visit to Washington D.C. would it?" Chuck inquired knowingly. I wasn't sure if he'd read my mind, but he enlightened me right away. "Rogue, I'm sure, would be dreadfully embarrassed to know that I am aware of the situation. She did not tell me, and I did not explore your thoughts. No, Scott was the one who confided in me, after Rogue took him into her confidence."

"Cyke?" I couldn't believe it. "She told _Cyke_?"

"Scott, yes, Professor Summers," he said, like I didn't know. "Several weeks after your disappearance from the motel in Washington, she apparently informed him as to what had transpired there. I don't suppose you would like to explain precisely what you were thinking, or what your motivations were in pursuing a child like Rogue, would you?"

Growling, I edged away from his accusing eyes. "She ain't a child," I said stiffly. "She was legal."

"She was of age, which is not the same as being prepared for the consequences of such actions, and of course it goes without saying that she neither anticipated nor was prepared for you to desert her immediately after making such overtures." Chuck sighed, lookin' down at me like I was dirt. "Perhaps you are incapable of remorse because of your own complicated issues, but even you must be able to understand how difficult Rogue would find it to converse with you now. I don't believe apologies are necessary, because what you've done is unforgivable. If you truly care about Rogue, you'll leave here now and refrain from making further attempts to re-enter her life."

His tirade humiliated me, and what jerked my chain more than anything was the calm, collected way he talked. If he had shouted at me, or called me names, it would have been easy to get angry at him, but he left me defenseless, because I knew every word he spoke was truth.

"I can't just drive away, Chuck. I can't get on that bike and go. There's more goin' on here than just what happened between me and Rogue."

"Explain."

"Mystique paid me a visit a few days ago. I don't know how she found me. I was workin' for a fight tour and we only stayed in the same place a few days before movin' on, but somehow she did, 'cause she showed up disguised as a bar broad and tried to get me to sleep with her before makin' some damn serious threats about takin' Rogue. Magneto's got his powers back - so does Mystique, and she had Rogue's somehow too - and he's callin' all his old supporters back to his side. He's got some sort of plan but I don't know what."

Chuck folded his hands in his lap and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you suppose Mystique told you this?"

I looked him right in the eye, tellin' the truth. "She had a job she wanted me to do. Magneto sent her to me. They want Pyro out. Seems like you've got him kept prisoner here, someplace in the mansion, and they want him free so he can go back to workin' for Mags."

"So, have you refused this request? Or are you employed by Magneto now?" There was genuine curiosity in his eyes, as though he believed it would be that easy for me to go on the Brotherhood's payroll after everything they had done to Rogue, and were willing to do to me and the team.

"Of course I'm not. No, it's Rogue. If they don't get Pyro, they're goin' to take Rogue. That's what Mystique said anyhow."

Chuck's eyes widened and he paled ever so slightly, but he recovered real quick. "That is impossible. We have been monitoring Magneto for months, ever since Rogue's powers made their initial return. I feared the cure would alter Magneto's abilities as well, and perhaps enhance them, which it has seemed to do. He is a threat, but he hasn't the force necessary to invade the mansion and capture any of the X-men."

"You send her out on missions though, don't you? They keep people around to watch her; they could take her any time she's in the field. Mystique said it would be an ambush. She said something about Rogue's powers too, now that you mention it. She said they're different now, not just stronger."

"Yes, that is true, but I am not going to elaborate. Frankly, Logan, you have lost my trust, and seeing as you are no longer a member of this team, I see no reason to give you details about any member of the X-men." He pointed towards the door. "Rest assured, however, that once you leave I will do everything in my power to maintain Rogue's safety and the security of all the X-men. Now, I believe you've used up your welcome. If you wouldn't mind, I think we would all feel more comfortable if you left."

"I'm not leavin'." Anger flooded through me and I glared at that self righteous bastard with fury. "Didn't you hear a word I said? Magneto captured her before, he could do it again; he doesn't need an army, you know that as well any anyone. No, I'm stayin'. Someone has to protect her."

"That someone is not you," Chuck said firmly, and there was anger in his voice too. "She will be well looked after by us, by her family."

"Not good enough."

"Very well." He reached for a phone on his desk and pressed one of the numbers. The conversation was brief and whispered, and the person on the other end did not reply. I assumed it was some kind of security, but even as I slid my claws out, the door opened and someone stepped inside.


	7. Chapter 7

"Professor?"

It was Cyke. He looked a little different than the last time I'd seen him, both stronger and in better physical shape than ever before. From the looks of it, he'd spent every waking moment runnin' routines in the Danger Room or lifting weights in the gym. His hair had grown slightly longer and gave him a rugged look that fit well with the two day-old stubble on his face; it pissed me off just lookin' at him. His bright blue eyes flashed at me behind a thin ruby visor.

I was so caught up in studyin' him that it took me a second to register the second person who'd entered, who was standing close beside him, squeezin' his hand. Her face was achingly familiar, still framed with pale streaks and dark locks, and her brown-gold eyes were wide with surprise. She looked a bit leaner that I remembered her, stripped down to raw muscle and bone, all fighting machine and obviously a woman instead of a girl, but she still had the same plump lips and honey-colored eyes, and she still made me weak in the knees.

"Ah, Rogue. I'd like you to sit down a moment please," said Chuck calmly, like we were all at a tea party and the reunion was goin' to be an easy one. Rogue didn't respond at first, because she was starin' at me in shock, but Cyke took her arm and pulled her closer. Watchin' him with his hands on her even in that protective Boy Scout way made me furious, 'cause she was mine to touch, mine to watch out for, not his - _never_ his. She settled in a chair and he sat next to her, blocking her view of me.

"I do hate to disturb you with bad news so soon after your recent engagement, but as you can see, we have a visitor. Rogue, I have some information that may disturb you, but I want you to listen closely. Logan claims he was recently visited by Mystique, and that she made threats against you. Apparently, if St John is not released from the school, Magneto plans to send the Brotherhood out to apprehend you the next time you are outside on a mission. Whether this is true or not, I'm frankly unsure, but I'm inclined to believe Logan on the matter. So, first thing first, I'm grounding you from all off-site missions from this point on, until further notice. I'd encourage you to continue with your X-men training and I will find you some work to do within the mansion for the meantime, but there will be no missions or flights for a few weeks, not until I can find out what sort of danger you are in."

"Professor!" came Rogue's plaintive voice. She glared at Chuck, fierce as a wildcat and obviously startled by the fact that he expected her to stay home when the others got to play. "I'm just as strong as anyone else on this team. I can handle myself better than most of my class, and you know it. I've proven myself in practice missions over and over again, and I've even been on a few real missions and done just fine despite the risk. You said yourself that in a few months time I'd be out of junior standing. I sure as hell don't plan to be stuck at home babysitting the little kids while my friends are facing real danger!"

Chuck didn't have to speak, because Cyke touched her face gingerly, and lulled her into some kind of weird calm like he was hypnotizing her. "Rogue, listen to Professor Xavier, please. You might be in real danger! I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you." He squeezed her hand and I felt myself grinding my teeth so hard they hurt. "Just for right now, will you agree to stay safe in the mansion? For me?"

"Fine." She wasn't pleased, but she nodded in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. "But I don't have to like it, and I'm not putting up with it any longer than necessary. I'm going to keep working on my training with you and Ororo. But Professor," she went on, turning to him, "the second you've checked everything out, I want back on the team. Don't keep me on the sidelines any more than you absolutely have to."

"I am in complete agreement, Rogue; we need you on the team, you are a valuable asset to the X-men. I promise, your suspension will not be long-term. Now, onto the second issue at hand," said Chuck, "Logan has expressed a desire to speak to you, and he wants to remain in the mansion to aid in your protection against the Brotherhood. I wanted to offer you the chance to make your feelings known before deciding on the matter."

I bared my teeth. "Where I go and who I talk to isn't up to you, Chuck."

"Yes, it is, Logan, so long as you are on the premises. You may decide where to go once you leave the school property, but you will not remain in this building without my permission. If I decide to remove you from the mansion, you will go. You forget what my powers allow me to do, perhaps," he answered easily. "However, I haven't yet made up my mind on the matter. Rogue? Do you wish to acquiesce to Logan's request?"

"Absolutely not! I have nothing to say to him." She refused to look at me, her whole body radiating anger and pain as she wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her gaze to the floor. Cyke slipped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her in a way I had never seen him do before. They seemed closer than ever before, and that irritated me somethin' awful. "I don't want him in the mansion either. He left us, he isn't part of what we do here anymore. I don't care where he goes after that."

"Rogue! Look kid, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run out on you that way. It was a big mistake and I've regretted it like crazy, believe me --"

"Believe _you_?" she snapped, her voice icy. She pulled away from Cyke and rose up from her chair, glaring at me like nobody's business. "Why should I believe _you_, Logan? I can't think of a single reason to trust a word you say." She shook her head, dark hair flying. "I don't believe Mystique found you, and I don't think she made any threats. This is just a trick to try and win your way back into the mansion. Well, as far as I'm concerned, it won't work. You can go to hell, Logan."

I had never seen her so angry at me before. She'd always had quite a temper, and she wasn't afraid of voicing her opinion on any matter, but I'd never seen her so downright furious, especially with me. Even her scent was electric, full of rage and pain as she marched across the room to where the Professor sat and leaned over to look him in the eye.

"Professor, I hope you're not even going to _consider_ letting him stay here."

"Rogue --" I started, but she cut me off.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it. Just get out of here, Logan. Go!" She covered her face with one hand and I could see that she was cryin', her skin turning all blotchy and her tears trickling down her face. I started to move towards her, willing to take a punch or even fall victim to her powers just to get close to her again. However, Cyke got there first, hugging her real close and soothing her with his calm voice. His eyes were obscured by his visor, but I could sense him studying me, appraising whether or not he could take me in a fair fight, and suddenly, it clicked.

"What the hell is going on with you two?"

Cyke just shook his head, brushing off my question, and Rogue looked at me, wide-eyed and teary, but silent except for her quickened breath. Pushing me aside, Cyke took Rogue's hand and held it tight. "Excuse me, Professor, but this has been a real shock to Rogue, so if it's all right with you, I'm going to take her back to her room so she can get some rest." He watched me for a moment, and then continued, his words directed my way. "I really hope you understand how much pain you've caused her by coming back here. She's been through a lot on your account already, and you're only making it worse. If you'd cared about her at all, you never would have come back here."

Chuck nodded, agreeing. "Thank you, Scott. I will speak to you further a bit later, if you don't mind."

We both watched as the two of them left the room, and then I turned on Chuck.

"What's happening with them? Something's goin' on."

He shrugged simply like it didn't even matter. "Yes, Logan. Their relationship has certainly evolved from it's previous incarnation as student and teacher. Shortly after you left us, Rogue was so distraught that for a short time, I believed she might even be in danger of harming herself. I encouraged the staff to keep a close eye on her, but Scott emerged as by far the most supportive. They had enjoyed a good rapport previously, but he became her confidante and soon, her closest friend. It did not take very long for their relationship to take on a romantic element. Scott had lost Jean, so he understood to some degree the pain Rogue felt about losing you. They each provided one another with a reason to keep going, for which I am very thankful. They have been dating for almost two months now, and I am pleased to share that they announced their engagement just a few days ago."

"Engagement -- you mean, they're gettin' married?" The idea sounded so crazy that I almost laughed, thinking' of my little Rogue in the whole wedding get up, white dress and all, but the chuckle sounded more like a sob and I kind of choked, staring at Chuck's emotionless face. "Tell me you're kiddin' Chuck."

"No, Logan, I can assure you, it's the truth. You may have not noticed the ring on Rogue's finger, but it is there, and I know for certain, Scott's intentions are completely serious."

My whole self ached with that news, and I felt myself almost gasping for breath, like someone had hit me so hard my powers couldn't even begin to compete, once the news started to sink in. "And you're allowing it?" I shouted, claws springing. I fought to keep from slashing through Chuck's mahogany desk, clenching my fists so my own skin took the brunt of the injury. "He's twice her age! He's her teacher!"

"Scott is no longer Rogue's teacher, Logan. She completed her high school curriculum with honors, and she is currently building her education with supplementary courses which will allow her to enter the college of her choice next fall with advanced standing. Scott is not in any educational position as far as she is concerned. She studies ethics and philosophy at my side and is working on pre-med courses with Dr. Hank McCoy. Right now, Scott does still assist her with some of her Danger Room training, but not in an official capacity; she reports to and is evaluated by Ororo."

"Furthermore, he is not twice her age," he went on, so calm I wanted to cut him. "There is a significant age gap between them, but their compatibility assures me they will make a successful go of it." His eyebrow quirked as he looked me over. "I would have thought you'd be the last to raise an objection to the age difference."

"But she -- she can't." I buried my face in my hands, willing my breath to go back to normal, because the hitchin' in my chest was making me feel sick, or somethin' was, anyway. I kept my claws out, ready to strike, but I knew there was nothing I could do with them. For once, I couldn't fight my way out. No amount of bloodletting would fix it, I knew that. I panted and gritted my teeth, thinkin' of the last night Rogue and I had spent together; I thought of her body and her whispered words, and every other moment we'd ever shared, and how I'd left her. The agony seemed to take on it's own form, erasing every human thought in my mind, turnin' it towards destruction, anything but having to accept what I'd been told.

"If you expect me to seriously entertain your request to be permitted back inside this school, Logan, you will retract those claws at once," ordered Chuck strictly. "You will not sway my opinion in your favor with violence and threats. I understand you are quite reasonably disappointed by the news, because I believe you did sincerely care about Rogue at one point. Perhaps you still do: however, you are in no position to make a decision about the relationship she enjoys with Scott, so I suggest you learn to accept what is happening."

I shook my head, trying to convey the impossibility of ever accepting that. My knees felt completely weak, like I might collapse onto the floor at any moment, and my insides felt like they were dissolving, leaving nothing but pain behind. At that moment, I didn't care what happened to me. Let Chuck mess up my mind worse than it already was, let him send me out into isolation; I knew I wouldn't be able to live with Rogue and Cyke's new relationship. There was no way I could handle watching the two of them grow closer, let alone exchange vows promising themselves to each other.

"On the original matter, Logan, do you still intend to support us in protecting Rogue, or has your interest been lessened by this announcement?"

Shuddering, I looked him in the eye. "I came here to see that she's safe and that's what I intend to do."

He regarded me for a long minute, his fingers pressed together under his chin. Finally, he nodded. "I believe you're telling the truth, and because of that, for the time being I will allow you to stay. However," he went on quickly before I could interrupt, "there are going to be some rules. For one thing, if you wish to regain our trust, you are not to leave the mansion overnight without notifying myself or another member of staff. You do not need to ask permission, but you do need to inform us about where you are, otherwise we cannot rely on you."

I drew my claws in and forced myself to stand up and get my emotions in check. "Curfew, got it."

"Not precisely, Logan, but let's not debate the point. Furthermore, your conduct in the past reflected abysmally low standards of behavior. Your personal life is not my concern, and what you do outside the mansion is your own choice, but inside the school and in view of the children, I expect you to refrain from developing romantic relationships with any student, and to keep any future relationships with staff private."

I glared at him. "So, it's all right for Cyke to --"

He interrupted me before I had a chance to get my tirade started. "We are not discussing Scott, we are discussing you. Scott maintains a reputation for long-term, monogamous relationships; you do not. Scott has not put any students through emotional crises; you have. Furthermore, Scott is careful not to allow his attentions to Rogue to be misconstrued as favoritism or preference; he develops her skills in only one subject --"

"I'll bet!"

" -- and he does that Danger Room training with her alone. In any case, Scott is not on probation here, and you are. You must also agree not to coerce Rogue into speaking with you. I require your word that you will make no attempt to force your company on her when she is unwilling. If the two of you are to remain in the mansion simultaneously without discord, you will need to make every effort to understand her feelings and respect them. Are you agreed?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Very well." He reached into his desk drawer and produced a brass key. "I'm afraid your former quarters have been reassigned; Ororo's old apartment is now being used as a meeting place and classroom for the older students, the junior members of our team. There are no other rooms available in staff housing either. For the time being, I'll have to give you one of our student rooms." He sighed, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, all the available rooms are on the third floor, as is Rogue's. I will permit you to reside there so long as you cause no trouble; I'd rather not disturb any of the students by requiring them to relocate. I expect you to give her a wide berth and not attempt to take advantage of the situation to pester her. Now then, as for the practical concerns, do you have any luggage, or money?"

"Not much. I've got a change of clothes in my pack; left most of the rest of my gear up north. Most of my money got spent on the trip back."

"Very well, then, I can easily arrange a paid position for you, I think. Based on your past performance, coupled with your lack of professional credentials, I cannot offer you a job as an educator in the school, nor allow you to return to teaching the physical training classes. However, Scott is working with students full time now, and we could use a mechanic for the vehicles and the jet. You might appreciate the solitude as compared to working with the students. Would this be acceptable?"

Shrugging, I agreed. "I guess so. Have I got a choice?"

He looked me over seriously, frowning thoughtfully. "Logan, I understand how difficult this must be for you. I hope _you_ can understand how complicated the situation is for all of us here, particularly Rogue. As much as I would like to welcome you back with open arms and write off your actions as a simple mistake, I am not convinced you truly regret what you've done."

"Look inside my head then, why don't you?" I growled at him.

"I could do so, very easily, but I would prefer to see you demonstrate the truth of your feelings through action, rather than learn of your emotions by prying. Now then, here is the key to your room. I suggest you unpack and come downstairs in an hour if you'd like to join us for dinner, otherwise, you can find something to eat on your own. You can begin your employment tomorrow, after you've had some time to rest. If you wish, I will offer you a week's salary in advance so that you can have some cash at your disposal."

"What about Rogue?"

"What about her?"

"How am I goin' to protect her? How can I take care of her if she won't even let me come near her?" I asked him, baring my teeth in frustration.

Chuck leaned back a little in his chair. "That is something you will have to work out for yourself over time, I'm afraid. If you can convince Rogue of your authentic remorse and the sincerity in which you speak now, you may persuade her to trust in you again. Rogue's nature tends to be both forgiving and reticent. She is afraid of her own pain, yes, but mostly the pain she causes others. She will not wish to see you suffer from a lack of her company once if she feels you are genuine about wanting to fix your relationship. If you can be honest about your desire for a renewed friendship, her reaction may surprise you."


	8. Chapter 8

It was a couple days later before I finally spoke to Rogue again.

Despite being in close quarters, she'd made every attempt to avoid me - and she was damn good at stayin' out of my way. I hadn't remembered her being quite so careful before, but plenty of times I found myself steppin' out into the hallway with her scent tickling my nose, to find she had just closed her bedroom door behind her or disappeared down the staircase. I often found myself walking into a room she had just left. I knew she wanted to keep her distance, but I didn't know how she did it. After a while I just figured she'd gotten smart during my time away, and had finally started relyin' on her senses and gut instinct the way I'd always taught her.

Just scentin' her around made me desperate for some kind of connection with her again, and I got pretty nostalgic thinking of our old Danger Room sessions together. That was one of the things I missed most, actually, and it wasn't just about seeing her in the tight uniform. I couldn't figure out if I'd taught her enough to defend herself without me, but no matter what her qualifications, I wouldn't have wanted her to have to face 'ol Mags alone. Her abilities just mattered even more now, though it pissed her off to think of herself as a victim, a target, and she ranted about it sometimes, so loud I could hear her arguin' with Chuck right through the walls. I sided with her, knowin' it was hell to be cooped up the way she was, but couldn't help but worry about her. Magneto's threats had been real, I was sure of that.

I stayed out of her way as best I could, which surprised even me. It wasn't that I was scared of her anger -- I _wanted_ her to scream at me. I needed her to at least look at me so I could feel a little more alive, the way only she could make me feel. It was real difficult seein' her with Cyke too, but even that wasn't my only reason for maintaining the distance between us. It was my promise to Chuck that did it. I liked feelin' like a man of my word again, and I appreciated bein' seen as someone who could be trusted, so I followed the rules as best as I ever had. I took my breakfast early because I knew Rogue liked to sleep in late, and I stayed out of the public areas she preferred, like the lounge and library, even though sometimes I kept my door open like the kids did, just so I could see her when she went by.

A few days after I came back, I took a break from tunin' up an old transport bus Chuck wanted back in service and I went into the kitchen to get a drink. They had nothing in the mansion but milk, soda and juice - no beer, of course - but it had been thirsty work and I was ready for a Pepsi if nothin' else. I went in, let the cold air of the fridge flow over my skin, and when I stepped back, there was Rogue, gaping at me over a cup of coffee she'd just poured.

Her eyes went wide as saucers, like she'd found herself lookin' at a ghost or something. Even terrified, she was a beauty. She was wearin' a pair of tight jeans and some kind of flowery pink shirt - I'd never seen her with pink on before, but it did her complexion justice. The Rogue I'd been so close to wasn't a pink kind of girl at all, but I figured Cyke had changed her. It seemed like he'd made her into a different kind of person, because she looked a little bit like Jean. She had her hair loose and wavy so that it kind of flowed down her back, catching sunlight that lit it faintly auburn, and I'd be damned if she wasn't wearing something shiny like paint on her lips, only it was clear, not colorful.

"Oh," she said, in the tiniest voice.

"Hey, uh, kid," I answered her back. I'd be lyin' if I said she didn't make me feel like a small animal caught in a trap, defenseless. My skin went all hot and flushed and I looked down at the tile floor, actually too embarrassed to meet her eyes, suddenly feelin' scared. Sirens went off in my mind and I felt like I was in deep shit even though I hadn't done a thing wrong. Sheepishly, I held up the bottle of Pepsi like it was goin' to give me permission for bein' in her way. "Just came in for a drink."

She sort of nodded and stepped way back to give me room to pass, although she kept her eyes on me, like she was worried I might run at her, hurt her even. I guess after what I'd put her through, she had a right not to trust me. With shaking hands, she held her coffee cup in front of her like a shield. "Okay."

Just looking at her again made me cringe, but as much as I wanted to hurry out and escape back to the cool silence of the garage and lose her scent among the smells of oil and gasoline, I couldn't do it. "Look, kid -- Rogue, can I talk to you a sec?" It hurt to ask her like that, all formal and scared, and to think about bringing up the old wounds, when I remembered the comfortable banter we'd always had before.

I kind of expected her to yell at me, or call for Cyke or Chuck or somebody, but she shrugged and stared directly at me. I took that to mean yes.

"You've got every right to hate me for what I've done," I started out, holdin' the Pepsi bottle so tight I thought I might break it. "I can't make you understand why I left you there, that mornin'."

"I know why you did that, Logan," she said, her voice weary and small. "You don't have to explain."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do." She watched me over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a sip, then slid up onto the counter, perching there as the kids liked to do for some reason. "You don't have a lot of memories, not even as many as I do, but as far as either of us can tell, you've never been attached to anybody. You're scared to death of getting truly close to somebody, depending on them, getting vulnerable. To you, women mean sex and good times, nothing more. You're okay with some companionship as long as it's loose and comfortable, with no real bonds, but relationships scare you. You don't want to be tied to another person, and it isn't because you're so independent." She looked me straight in the eye, and her gaze was cold and sad. "You don't feel like you're good enough for anyone, you don't think you deserve anybody. That's why you left. You were scared of being close to me, and scared you were goin' to hurt me - which you did, I'll grant you that - so you ran."

I stared at her, open-mouthed, feeling my pulse beat hard through my temples. I wanted to lie and put on some macho act, and tell her that I left because the sex hadn't meant nothin' to me. I wanted to get pissed and tell her _she_ meant nothin', even though that would have been a hell of a lie. She had no right to tell me I was scared of anythin' - how could she know? I'd killed more than my share of men, a couple of women too, without ever blinking an eye or even feelin' remorse most the time. I'd never backed down from a fight; nothing scared me. But still, somehow, she was right, and worse, she knew it. "How could you know that?"

"Does it matter?" Now she looked almost ashamed, bowing her head. A faint red flush formed on her cheeks. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

"I don't know." She glared at me impatiently, and I nodded, givin' up the tough guy act. "I guess so."

"That's what I thought."

I took a breath, tasting her on the air along with the fragrant orange blossoms someone had set in a vase by the window. For the first time in months, I started to relax. "So -- are we good again? Now that you understand?"

Her eyes flashed golden in the gloom and she shook her head fiercely, dark curls flying as she leapt off the counter and padded barefoot past me towards the door. "Of course not, Logan. You still left when I needed you most."

"But you -- you know why!"

"Knowing doesn't change anything. Knowing doesn't alter the fact that I woke up after the most intimate situation of my whole life and found you gone, with no note, no phone calls, nothing! Knowing doesn't change how bad I felt, or that I wasn't important enough for you to fight all those feelings in order to be with me, or to at least share them with me before you ran. You could have woken me up, you know, and told me you were going and told me why, and I would have let you run as far as your needed, for as long as you wanted. It would have been okay, because I would have known you'd come back in the end. But you snuck out the door and never looked back, just like you would any other meaningless lay you hooked up with, and you did everything you could to forget me. I thought that was the last I'd see of you, until last week when you came back just the way you'd gone, without warning. I can't forgive that." Without a backwards glance, she hurried away.

"Kid!" I called out, but she was already gone, and the hallway was silent.


	9. Chapter 9

She made me sick with worry, and sad beyond what I'd thought was my capacity to feel things at all. I'd never really been affected by anyone around me before; my concerns were all wrapped up in me: the memories I'd lost and was desperate to get back; the endless questions about who I was and what my life had meant; thinkin' all the time about what would happen to me if I ever did find out, or if I did and couldn't stand it. For the first time in what I remembered of my life, I wasn't dwelling on the fights and the broads and the beers, but worrying about someone else. And, I'll admit, it burned me up to see her with Cyke. Just seeing his arm around her shoulders made me want to tear him into pieces, and the couple of times I walked into a deserted hallway and caught them kissin' it took every ounce of my strength not to let the berserker in me out.

Neither of them made any effort to get near me. Cyke didn't have much of a competitive streak anymore - it was like having Rogue had sweetened him up a touch - so he didn't show her off to me the way I might have done if the situation had been reversed, or the way he'd once showed off Jean. Almost respectful of my lost claim, he never said a word to me about Rogue, even the few times when I got sarcastic and said some stuff to taunt him into a fight. He didn't even make any mention of her during the few times Chuck asked him to show me around a new holding bay or teach me how to use some unfamiliar equipment, and we worked together for a few days at a time.

Rogue didn't try to make me jealous either. She never rubbed it in, and whenever I walked into the room she pushed him away so I wouldn't see what they'd been up to, but of course I ran across them a few times when they were too busy exploring each other's bodies to notice me. They went outdoors all the time once winter gave over to spring, and brought the smell of fresh-blooming roses into the dry, musty winter mansion with them, along with the scent of heat that made me both sick and jealous.

"Hey, Logan?"

It was a few weeks after my return. I was outside, smoking a cigar reflectively and scanning the expansive lawn, lookin' at nothing and not thinking about much. "Yeah?"

Of course, it was Cyke. He wasn't wearing the black outfit that he put on whenever he was about to do Danger Room training, and he wasn't in the navy blue work clothes Chuck liked us in when we were doing serious manual labor in the garage or the grounds. Instead, he had an expensive wool sweater and some kind of prissy pants with creases in them, and covering his eyes were a pair of what looked almost like sunglasses, except with red lenses like his bulky visor.

"I was looking for you," he started, and I braced myself for a lecture. I was ready for a fight, but his manner was brisk and distracted, not confrontational at all. "I'm supposed to bring some files down to the hospital area for Hank to look over, but I promised Ro -- er," he looked at me, watching my eyes narrowing, and shrugged. "I have to meet her in a couple minutes and I'm running late all ready. I don't have time to go through the security checks right now. Would you mind delivering them for me?"

"Security checks?"

"New procedures, Logan; you know we've got to keep the place secure. Pyro's being kept down there." He eyed me, one eyebrow quirking upward. "The files are nothing serious, just old medical records and some intake folders from some of the newer students, nothing confidential. They're in my apartment, right on the desk, you can't miss them." He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and threw them to me in a graceful toss. "Thanks."

"No problem," I answered back, giving him a hostile, serious look. He didn't notice though, because he had already gone running for his car. It was a piece of work too, that car. He fussed over it like a baby and spent most afternoons out there with wax and polish. I wondered what Rogue thought of that, if she was impressed by the shiny, spoiled car and the dress up clothes Cyke liked to wear. She'd never struck me as being into that kind of stuff, but if she was, how could I compete? I looked down at my grubby jeans, the old white wife-beater still sporting oil stains and a good coat of dust and cobwebs in my hair. I was never goin' to be a Ken doll like Cyke - not even if I cleaned myself up and started dressin' fancy - and I'd never considered that it might matter...but what if it did?

Stubbing out the cigar, I went back inside and found my way to his quarters, feelin' a bit like a secretary and not at all pleased about it, but not in the mood to complain to Chuck about the delegation either. Cyke's place was big, even bigger than the suite I'd been given when I'd first been brought to the mansion. There was a little front area with just enough room for two chairs and a tiny circular table, and I knew it would appeal to Cyke's sense of propriety to be able to have a women sit with him there, the door chastely open so everybody could see he wasn't takin' advantage of innocents. He wasn't the type to grope or fondle his women in public, but rumors had once circulated the mansion about the crazy stuff he and Jean got into. I wondered if _that_ was what Rogue liked about him, and buried the thought before I broke something.

Looking around, I went into the bedroom. Rogue's scent hit me, mingled with Cyke's spicy aftershave. It was a shock, even though there was no trace of sex in the air when I breathed in deeply to find out what they'd done. She'd been there before though, many times, enough so that the wood of the walls had taken in her smell. She'd sat in that room, on the edge of that bed, crying and talkin' and hugging on Cyke, speaking to him in whispers, maybe lettin' him roam his hands over her body like he owned her. I felt furious about it, angry enough to do something crazy, but then something on the desk caught my eye.

It was a small photo, a Polaroid, in an antique ivory frame. The glass was scrupulously clean, without a trace of fingerprints or dust, but the frame had been held a lot and looked almost worn smooth. Cyke was in the picture - a younger, happier Cyke, with a shock of brown hair falling caddishly over one visor-covered eye, a big dumb grin on his face. His arm was around a red-head I recognized immediately as Jean. She was smiling real big, wearing a floppy sort of hat and a sundress that showed off her tanned arms. I stared at the two of them, arms intertwined, and I knew that explained why the room was devoid of any scent of musk or desire. Cyke wouldn't dare fuck another woman in the room he'd shared with Jean. He'd think of it as tarnishin' the memory - and Rogue? My Rogue wouldn't ask him to; I knew that much about her still.

Being there after seeing that picture made me feel uncomfortable, like I'd wandered into the wrong place accidentally and was bein' watched. I could feel Jean's eyes on me, judging me like they must have judged Rogue whenever she sauntered into Cyke's room, I grabbed the files from the desk, my glance sweeping over the other pictures lined up there. Most of the photos were of Rogue, but she didn't look happy like Jean had. She looked reflective in most of them, her eyes deep and betraying more thoughts that I would ever be able to understand, as if Cyke had caught her brooding and snapped a picture before she could hide her face. She looked kind of broken-hearted, biting her lip a little; she was trying to smile and be playful, like the old Rogue, but she couldn't quite pull it off and I knew why. I wondered if Cyke noticed the change, and whether it mattered to him the way it mattered to me.

Hank was sort of surprised to see me, but he didn't ask me why I'd come down to the lab instead of Scott. Instead, he put me through the security procedures Cyke had warned me about. I wasn't encoded in the new system they'd established, so he had to take my fingerprints and ask me a bunch of questions, then I had to take a retina scan before I could even get into the lab itself. Finally, the bolts in the door shot open and I went through a cloud of medicinal mist to get inside.

"Thank you, Logan," he said as he took the manila folders from me and set them down on a table. "I must say, I'm pleased to see you. I was wondering how you were fairing in your re-adjustment to school life. It seems you're doing well."

"Yeah, I'm terrific."

His blue eyes searched my face for clues, and he nodded. "I understand. Well, I hope you won't mind a slight delay before I send you back up to the surface. I need a blood sample from you, but it shouldn't hurt, and it'll be over before you know it."

"I ain't afraid of pain," I answered, rolling up my sleeve grimly. "This the new security procedure? Cyke didn't tell me we had to give blood to get in."

He laughed easily. "No, no, don't worry. In future, it'll be much quicker. You noticed the automated pad on the outside of the door? You'll simply press the red button, and you will be asked to undergo a brief retina scan. Then you will be asked for your code, which I'll have you select before you go. The blood and fingerprints are only in case you lose track of your code and we need you to verify your identity in order to re-assign your codes and allow you in. Here now," he went on, swabbing my arm with a cold, damp tissue that smelled of alcohol. "This will be quick." The needle slid into my skin, just like in my dreams, 'cept this time I kept still and didn't thrash around. It was hardly painful, but the memory of the Alkali Lake facility still made me stiffen, and my heartbeat thudded until he withdrew it and put a stopper in the blood vial. "All over. I'll enter it into the system tonight."

"Sure a tough place to get into," I remarked, looking around to cover up my discomfort. I refused his offer of a bandage and watched as the tiny bruise from the blood test faded and healed. "You're keepin' Pyro down here?"

"St John, yes." Hank frowned thoughtfully. "For his safety as well as ours, of course. We're attempting to prevent any unauthorized access to him. That is what all the security measures are for."

"His protection?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"We believe Magneto and company may have some desire to retaliate against him. After all, he did abandon them willingly on the battle-field; he chose to return with us following the fight."

"Yeah, so nobody would press charges against him," I answered back. "The kid's not much to look at, but he's wised up plenty since I first met him."

"I did hope there was more loyalty involved than that, but perhaps you're right," Hank said. "In any case, since we cannot be sure what would happen to him if he returned, and since he has thus far seemed unwilling to sincerely consider staying away from Magneto, we must keep him here."

"Can I talk to him?" Until the words slipped out of my mouth, I'd never thought I had any desire to speak to the kid. He'd been a punk all along, headstrong and rebellious, but instead of pissing me off, he'd sort of grown on me. I felt kind of bad for him even, seein' as how he was caged. I could relate to what he must have been feelin', locked up and alone.

Hank looked confused. "I can't understand what your motivation would be."

"To talk to him, like a normal person. Or doesn't he deserve that, since he's not a loyalist?"

"Logan, please, don't get worked up about the situation. You and St John are very different people. I'm afraid I cannot allow it, not without permission from Charles. If you truly feel it will do you or him any good to talk to you, than by all means ask Charles about it. If he authorizes a pass for you, I'll be happy to grant you access. Until then, it's simply too dangerous."

"You don't think I can take him?"

"I'm sure you could, in a fair fight. I've seen you engage, remember? However, St John is not currently in what I would call a stable frame of mind. His thought processes are distorted and he is prone to some psychic disturbances, including infrequent hallucinations and paranoia. Obviously, we have confiscated his lighter and other fire-starting tools, but once he did manage a small fire, and we are not sure how. His quarters are fire-proof, and any materials we provide him with beyond the trivial are flame retardant so he does not injure himself, but I cannot guarantee he would not lash out with his powers if you entered his area. Remember, he has the capacity to set you alight before you could even reach him."

"So how do you give him things? How does he get his food and water? Aren't you afraid every time you open than door that somebody will get torched?"

Hank shifted through some papers on his desk, not looking at me for a moment. "We use Rogue," he said finally, speaking her name in a heavy voice. "Rogue is the main security element as far as that goes. With her unique ability, she is able to control and contain any fire he might attempt to light or manipulate."

"So, every time you open that door, she has to touch him and drain off the power?"

"Something like that," Hank looked uncomfortable. "As I've said, we have only had a problem once, but as were unable to find an implement for creating a spark in the first place, we are very concerned about the potential for disaster. We open the door twice a day to deliver his meals and anything else he has requested, and I attempt any medical tests I need during that time, just as Charles will do any necessary interrogation at that point. Rogue is always a part of the exchange."

Something Chuck had said floated back into my mind, and I looked at Hank evenly. "What's different about Rogue's powers?"

"Pardon?"

"What's different about her powers? Chuck said something had changed with Rogue's abilities. Magneto's had something change too. What do you know?"

"Unfortunately, Logan, that is confidential information and I have not received any instruction to pass it along to you. I'm afraid you will need to question Rogue directly for further answers."


	10. Chapter 10

I didn't have long to wait before I learned the truth of Rogue's new powers.

A few weeks after my chat with Hank, I drove out to get a beer. I hadn't been in town for weeks; most of my days were spent inside the garage, breathin' in dust and petroleum fumes, layin' flat on my back on a wheeled mat and tuning up Cyke's car, which kept flashing a light sayin' it had engine trouble, though I'd be damned if I could find anything really wrong. Wrapping up that Friday night, I gave the thing an oil change and a hard kick in the front bumper to get it going, and decided to take off for a while. All that was on my mind was the feel of wind in my hair, so when I climbed on my bike and gunned it up, my heart leapt up like a loyal dog, ready to go. Craving the taste of a cold one, I sped down the twisting gravel driveway and out onto the street, enjoying the speed and even more the way I was able to leave my gloomy thoughts behind me, back at the mansion.

I hadn't made any head-way with Rogue, or I might have asked her to go with me, but for one night it scarcely bothered me. She was like a ghost, a memory imprinted on my skin so that I shivered a little just thinking of her as I walked into the first bar, remembering how we'd gone there together, once, for a bite to eat and so I could teach her how to play pool. It didn't matter though; I lost myself in the loud music that made my ears hurt, and watched a couple of old broads dancing drunk, tripping over their own feet. Something stirred in my groin as I watched a fair blonde pick her way through the crowd with a martini in hand, but instead of pursuing her, I just leaned back and watched, enjoying the show. She brought me down, though, the blonde, winking and watching me out of the corner of her eye. I knew what she wanted and I wanted to give it to her, but I knew the second I touched her, I'd feel like I'd betrayed Rogue. It wasn't that she'd turned me celibate, just that I couldn't handle the remorse that would follow if I tried touchin' someone else. It was as if she was always there, watchin' every step I took, and I couldn't make a move without thinking of her.

Around eleven that night, I decided to head back home. I wasn't sleepy or nothin', just tired of feeling guilty about bein' out looking at other women with Rogue's soft voice echoing in the back of my mind, even though she was off with Cyke as far as I knew. I felt keyed up, but I didn't know why as I drank the rest of my whiskey in one gulp and mounted my bike, driving off into the darkness that I wanted so badly to envelope me.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I knew something was wrong at home. There wasn't any visible sign of a problem; outdoors, the mansion looked much the same as it had been when I'd left that afternoon. In the shadowy darkness, bare trees with just a hint of green leaves clawed towards the sky, and the tiny buds of flowers still slept under the soil. Nothing looked bad; there were no helicopters, no cop cars, but I knew things were all wrong anyway. It all came down to the front door, which hung wide open on its hinges, just waitin' for me to enter. I jumped off the bike, telling myself some kid had been careless or a breeze had blown it open, but still, I knew someone had run through into the mansion not more than a few minutes earlier, in such a panic they couldn't wait to close the door.

Runnin' in, I found a chaotic scene. Kids were milling about talking, but unlike usual, they were frantic and frightened looking. Their faces were pale and most of them looked like they'd been in the middle of getting ready for bed or else already asleep. The only one I saw wearing regular clothes was Drake, the insomniac, holdin' on to Kitty Pryde, who was wearing some kind of peach bathrobe, her hair in curlers. Nobody was laughin' at her hair-do; she didn't even seem to notice she wasn't all dolled up like usual. The kids all hovered in little knots and clusters, sometimes breaking away to move over a different group and ask for news, or tell someone else what was going on.

"What's goin' on?" I demanded, pouncing on Drake right away. He wasn't my competition any more - that was Cyke's honor - but he still looked scared out of his mind to see me standing there, wild eyed and curious. The hand holding Kitty's tightened its grip.

"I -- it's Rogue," he stammered after a few long seconds. He turned to Kitty for confirmation and she nodded quick. "Something happened --"

He wasn't able to finish whatever he'd started to say because I grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and shook him, not bothering to be too careful either. His head lolled back limply against his neck from the force of it, and Kitty shrieked. Instantly, we had an audience, but I ignored the little kids. "Rogue? What happened to her? Where is she?" He didn't say anything, so I dug my fingers into the flesh of his upper arms, baring my teeth as I whipped him back against the wall, desperate for an answer. I kept my claws in check, just barely. "Tell me!"

There was a crack as the back of his head hit into the wall, shattering the first layer of plaster from the sheer force of it, and suddenly I realized I was holding tight onto a block of ice that looked like Bobby but was hardly human at all. His flesh had gone cold, nothing but frozen water in place of his skin. Frostbite stung and numbed my body, working it's way up my arms and draggin' me back to my senses enough to stop shakin' him. I didn't want to kill him, so I laid off, let go.

He collapsed down to his knees as I let him drop, catching his fall with his ice-covered hands. "She's - she's -- in the lab -- with Hank."

I didn't wait for him to say anything else, and I didn't bother to check and make sure he was all right; I left that to Kitty. Nothing against the kid, but Rogue mattered a hell of a lot more than he did, especially at that moment. I ignored Kitty's sobbing questions and Bobby's small sigh of pain, running down the hall towards the stairs.


	11. Chapter 11

Where is she?" I roared when I finally reached the laboratory area. The last time I'd come down, Hank had been sitting at the desk in front of the bullet-proof glass and the locked door, waiting to let anyone in who came down, but he was gone now. Fiercely, I dragged my hooked fingers down the door, feeling for some sort of button or knob, and I beat my palm against the window for attention, but he didn't peek his head around the corner either, so I knew something was goin' down. His files were in disarray; papers were spilled all over the floor, and a cup of coffee somebody had knocked over had drenched the chair and been absorbed into the pages of one of his medical books.

I hit the glass once more, hollering at the top of my voice - mostly screaming Rogue's name, but bellowing for Hank as well. My claws slid out from the webbing between my fingers finally, ready to slash the door down, but right before I started cutting, I saw the keypad sitting unobtrusively next to the door, the blue LCD screen flashing innocently. Through the haze of panic, Hank's instructions came back to me, and I punched in my code and impatiently leaned in to let it scan my eye, drumming on the door all along to hurry things up. There wasn't any hitch in identifying me, and pretty soon the door slid open, so I could run into the lab.

"Rogue!"

"Back here!" came a woman's breathless voice. For a moment, I thought it was Rogue, and my breathing fell back into a normal rhythm, but then I recognized Ororo.

"Storm? Where is she?" I demanded, running towards the sound of her voice. "Where's Rogue? I heard she's down here; I need to know she's okay."

Ororo stepped up to me, pressing a finger against her lips to indicate silence. There was no judgment in her eyes, however, nor anger. Instead, she looked frightened, and that scared me. "Hush, Logan. Yes, Rogue is down here. Come with me, I'll show you where she is."

Eager for news, I trotted at her heels as she led me deeper into the lab. We came to a second door, a white one, with a similar keypad on it, and Storm quickly punched in a code and then pressed her finger against a small circle. "Blood test," she said softly when she caught me looking at her curiously. "This is the wing where John is being kept. It's even tighter security than the first one, to make sure nobody gets in without permission. You shouldn't be in here, but just this once --"

"Why's Rogue down this way?" I asked, but then I remembered what Hank had told me about her duties. "Kinda late to be feeding the prisoners, isn't it?"

Storm pressed her lips together tightly until they made a straight line. Her dark eyes flashed dangerously as she looked me over, suddenly irritated. "That was hours ago," she said dismissively. "This, however --"

"What?"

"I should allow the Professor to tell you what happened. It's not for me to say, anyway. I wasn't down here at the time, and I don't know if you have the clearance yet to be informed about --"

"You better tell me!" It came out a growl as I caught hold of her, leaning menacingly close. "Tell me right now!"

She flinched and looked away from me, but she didn't struggle, as if she knew I was in no state of mind to be toyed with. "There was an incident about an hour ago. Hank was finishing up some paper work when John contacted him - there is an intercom system, so that John can request assistance in case of emergency. Hank usually doesn't respond, because all he does is complain that we're -- well, not relevant," she said quickly as I glared. "From what I understand, John claimed not to be feeling well, and then he passed out while Hank was watching the security screen. Naturally, Hank was extremely concerned for John's well being, so he called Rogue to come down and assist him in getting John care." For a moment, she paused. "Mind letting me go, Logan? I'll tell you on the way, but we'll get to her faster if you don't insist on holding me here."

I let go instantly. "Go on."

"Thank you," she managed, sarcastic and courteous at the same time. She started moving again, leading me down white-washed tunnels to some kind of area I hadn't seen before. "As I said, Hank contacted Rogue to help him during the medical exam. I'm sure Hank has mentioned, Rogue is used in all transfers, to make sure John's powers cannot be used to harm any team member and to prevent him from trying to leave the premises. Well, Rogue came down and they brought John into the containment lab - the secure lab, used in the security wing - but John had been feigning. Somehow, he had managed to find a match. When he lit it, he was armed."

"But, with Rogue --"

"No, unfortunately. Right at first, yes; Rogue spotted the fireball before he could launch it at Hank, and she immediately started to withdraw his powers from him, but he was able to manipulate the fire to attack her before she could contain it all. That wouldn't have been a problem, but Scott, who had heard about the emergency, came in, and the second he saw Rogue seemingly alight, he ran and tried to pull her out of the fire. Rogue has immense control over power now, but not enough to simultaneously use it and resist it. She shut it down on instinct, for Scott's protection, and the remaining fire engulfed her for a matter of seconds."

I was shaking, my legs gone weak with the news. Numbly, I looked at Ororo, desperate. "Is she okay?"

"I'm not entirely certain, Logan. I'm not a medical doctor. But, we're here."

She led me into a room that looked similar to the sections of the lab I'd seen before, all clean white tiling for the walls, the marble floors washed and waxed and reeking of medicinal tang. This lab was a flurry of activity, however, busier than I'd ever seen the other part. Hank, blue fur spouting out from the collar and sleeves of his crisp white coat, was at the head of one of the silver tables, and I knew it was Rogue lying there, but for a minute I couldn't see her because of the crowd. Cyke stood next to Hank, clutching at Rogue from the looks of it, shaking and crying and moaning out loud. Beside him was Chuck in his chair, holding a stack of bandages for Hank to use as he patched her up. Kurt and Warren were there, and two women I didn't think I'd met before and couldn't be bothered to notice.

"Rogue?" Her name sounded ragged and guttural, like someone had torn it from me against my will. "Rogue!" Carelessly, I shoved Warren aside when he stepped in front of me, holdin' his hands up. All he wanted was to calm me down, but I couldn't spare a second for him, or anyone else who wanted to get in between me and her. "Rogue!"

"Logan." It was Chuck, his voice ringin' in my head so loud and powerful it didn't matter that he hadn't spoken aloud. Opening his mouth, he said, "step over here and I'll explain what's going on." He backed away from the table, giving me a glimpse of Rogue's pale arm looped in a piece of singed fabric. She didn't seem to be wearin' much of nothin' but she was a mess of clear plastic tubes: I saw a silver IV needle jutting into the delicate skin of her inner elbow; the scarlet transfusion tube thick with blood snaking around her upper arm and under a bandage on her shoulder, and the thin line of an oxygen feeder sliding along her chin to reach the mask that covered her mouth.

I shook Chuck off, wanting to see her, needing to move closer to Rogue, but he seemed to anticipate that, and gripped my mind within his powers again. "Logan, Rogue has been badly injured. I understand your desperation to check on her, but Hank is currently in the middle of some delicate work and cannot tolerate the distraction; please, come over here and let me tell you what's happening."

Somehow, I did what he'd asked. He must have put some force behind it, because even though I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of her, my legs started movin' in the other direction. I watched her for a minute, staring at the body parts I could see; only Rogue's arm, shoulder and the side of her face were visible to me, and just for a second too, because pretty soon somebody ran in the door I'd just come in, and hurried over to the table, unencumbered by Chuck. It was Bobby.

"What's he doin'? Why can't I --"

"Bobby, like Rogue, has received some basic medical training while here, and he has covered enough course material with Hank to serve as a nursing assistant and phlebotomist during emergencies such as this one. Please, Logan, allow him to do his work. You will be able to see her as soon as everything is stable." Chuck sighed and glanced over at Storm, who handed Bobby a cloth, watched him freeze it, and used it to wipe Rogue's forehead while bending down low and whispering something into her ear. "I trust Ororo filled you in on what has happened?"

"Yeah. She said -- Pyro did this?"

"He did." Always one to try and find the good in people, Chuck sighed. "To his credit, although he seemed more than willing to use his powers against Rogue when he knew she was fully armed, so to speak, a few seconds after he realized what was happening to her, he extinguished the flames he had created. I was able to re-incarcerate him almost at once, although not without further struggle. I am grateful he spared her, but nonetheless, Rogue was injured, and it is fairly serious."

"She's been burned? Is it bad?"

"Yes; however, not as badly as she could have been. The majority of her burns are first degree, with some second degree damage on her right side. She is rather lucky that her clothing caught fire first. Most of it is destroyed, but it perhaps afforded her some protection initially. Our major concern, unfortunately, is heat and smoke inhalation. The smoldering clothes and the office equipment that burned created a great deal of smoke. Even more worrisome, she breathed in the heat source directly; it was engulfing her when she restrained her power. There is some damage to her trachea and upper airway as well as minimal, but still worrisome, damage to the lung area. She can breathe, I believe - but for the time being, it is extremely painful, and I am not sure what medical routes Hank can take to heal this."

"Rogue," I found myself sayin' softly. My eyes stung and smarted, almost like I had smoke in them myself, and I rubbed at them with the heel of my hand. "Chuck, let me see her. I've gotta see- I gotta know she'll be all right."

Chuck nodded somberly. "Hank is dealing with the respiratory issues, with some assistance from Ororo, and I would advise you to stay out of their way to ensure the best care for Rogue, but if you wish to help in other means, it will be fine so long as you keep yourself restrained. Any outbursts, and I will remove you from the lab." I'd never seen a guy in a wheelchair look menacing before, but if anybody could do it, Chuck could.

Warren thrust a cold, damp bed-sheet into my hands as soon as I hurried over to the table. I gave him a blank look, and he pointed at Rogue as he carefully took the old sheet off. "Put that on her, very gently. It'll draw off some of the heat. Try to apply the least pressure possible. I'll dump this one in the bin and get some new ones ready. When you're done with the sheet, elevate her legs some, about a foot. It'll keep her from going into shock, if we're lucky."

I spread my arms wide to hold the sheet, and then I had my first real look at Rogue since I'd seen her days before. She was still, small and utterly unconscious lying on the silver table with no sheets or padding under her. If I just looked at her face, I could convince myself she was only resting, except for the breathing mask, because her hair had not been singed and there were no burns on her face or neck, but her entire right side, from collarbone to hip, was angry red, and there were some marks on her thighs, almost like the pattern of a slap where a hand hits. Deep purple-red grooves marred her right arm in streaks, as though she'd held her hand up to fight the flames, and I realized, when she started to look blurry, that I was actually tearing up. Quickly, I spread the sheet over her, letting it fall gently against her hurt skin with as much care as I could take.

Drake nudged me, and I remembered what Warren had said, so I caught hold of her ankles and held them up about a foot higher than the rest of her was, feeling insecure and completely lost. He handed me a couple of towels right away though, that I could use to prop up her legs, so I did. There was nothing else I had to do, so I leaned in, trying to blink away the tears so I could see what Hank was doing to her. I kept my hands on her legs, rubbing her calves up to her knees and trying to say reassuring things to her, same as Cyke was doing right into her ear, as he held her left hand in a crushing grip and told her how sorry he was. At the moment, I didn't even want to fight him for touching her, being with her because he looked so damn pitiful. I did want to rip Pyro apart though.

"Where's the match stick?" I growled over to Kurt.

He nodded towards a containment cell, and I could see eyes watching me through the tiny grid of fracture-resistant glass. "No, Logan," Kurt said as I started to move over to it, fists clenched. "We must not risk further harm to anyone by opening that door unprepared. Wait until Rogue has been treated and is well enough to move. Charles will disable Pyro, and then we can begin to understand what happened and why. But Logan," he continued, "we must not look to retaliation to provide our satisfaction. The ultimate goal is forgiveness."

My stare must have said something, because he took a step back and frowned apologetically. "I understand your anger --"

"No, I don't think you do, bub."

"I just don't think anything can be done in this case. Attacking and further angering Pyro won't bring you peace, and it won't cure the damage caused to Rogue."


	12. Chapter 12

"Logan," said Chuck before I could reply to that. "If you wouldn't mind, I did want to illuminate you on an issue."

"Yeah?"

"Rogue's powers. I believe you've questioned me on the subject before. I feel, in light of what's happened here, you ought to know what she is capable of. Will you accompany me to my office? I promise, you will have my full permission to return as soon as we are finished, and to do whatever you can to help. I believe Hank will be taking her into a sterile unit for surgery, however, and you won't be able to accompany them."

"All right, tell me."

He drove the wheelchair fast to keep up with my pace, but kept quiet until we had turned the corner and gone through a set of double doors. We paused at the elevator, waiting for it to come back down, and he sighed. "Would you like to explain, or shall I?" he asked sadly. For a minute I was perplexed, thinking he was talkin' to me, but then I noticed Cyke had detached himself from the table and was going with us.

"I'll do it," said Cyke. He looked a wreck. His hair with standin' on end and his fastidious clothes were wrinkled and singed here and there with small burns, although he didn't seem to notice much or care. What I could see of his face was blotchy and red, from heat or tears. "The, um, first thing you should probably know is that Rogue's powers are no longer limited to her body." He eyed Chuck, who nodded.

"What he means, Logan," said Chuck calmly, "is that the range of Rogue's powers is much more vast than before, as well as the scope of those powers. As you remember it, Rogue's powers were triggered or able to be used only when she was in physical contact with someone - actually touching them. Right?" I nodded and he went on. "When Rogue's bare skin came into contact with someone else's, her mutation drained their memories, abilities and energy. She is now capable of using those powers when someone else is not touching her."

I frowned, not comprehending properly. "You mean, just being around her now could get me zapped?"

"Sort of," said Cyke, "but not exactly. Rogue's powers don't work unless she wants them to; she has excellent control over them and that control is very strong. But when she wants it, yes, as long as you're in range, she can activate the powers and use them against others, disabling any opponent."

"So, everyone standing near her gets hit with it?"

"No, no, not at all," Chuck explained hastily. "Rogue has the ability to wield her powers like a very precise weapon. She could be standing in a crowd of fifty individuals, and only harm the one person she wished to. Or, she could harm the twenty she suspected of being dangerous. She is able to attack the specific victim she desires, and more than one if she needs to."

Shivering, I rubbed my head, trying to understand. The idea of Rogue being able to use her power on several people at once, and from a distance, was astounding. She'd never even told me about it, after everything we'd once shared. "So, it doesn't require bare skin anymore? She doesn't need to touch your skin to zap you?"

"Correct. Neither she nor any intended victim of her powers needs to have any skin exposed. On the other hand, she can physically touch someone skin to skin without causing any harm, which you might remember being the case soon after her powers started returning. Unfortunately, as Ororo explained, she cannot use her powers without harming anyone who is in physical contact with her." He gave Cyke a sorrowful look. "That seems to be the only limitation."

"If I'd just let go," Cyke moaned, making a tragic face. Chuck started to reply, but I interrupted him.

"So, what's the range on this thing? Can she only hit someone a few feet away, or is it further than that?"

Cyke chewed on his lip. "We tested that a month ago, when it became evident that she could reach across distances and affect people with her power whenever she needed to. The range is -- well, we haven't been able to measure it precisely, but there is plenty of distance. The last test I did with her, she could use her powers against me when we were four miles apart."

What he said made absolutely no sense, and I glared, watching his face for clues. The Rogue I knew would never use her powers willingly to harm someone unless it was absolutely necessary, especially someone she cared about. I remembered her guilt about the wounded FOH guys and the way she had struggled to reconcile the need to drain my healing abilities with her morals. "She used the power on you? Why? You can't convince me Rogue would hurt you, even to learn more about her mutation."

"It is no longer as you remember it," interrupted Chuck. "In the past, Rogue's powers drained energy, mutant powers, memories - all of it. Now she can control which elements she wants to utilize in any given situation. She could temporarily copy your memories without harming you physically at all, or she could drain you of your powers for a short time but avoid getting any of your thoughts trapped in her head. Also, she now has control over the force of her powers. Unlike in the past, she can choose the strength she applies. She can administer a small amount of pressure that would result only in a minor headache or slight fatigue, or she could use tremendous force and kill within a matter of seconds."

"All she did to me was take an obscure amount of my power," explained Cyke. "I never missed it, but she could use it. Somehow, she was able to control it." His voice was wistful, even envious, and he touched his ruby glasses unconsciously. "But we were able to verify the distance, and her ability to single out individuals in a crowd."

"So, that's the reason Mags and company want her, huh?" I asked. "Rogue's mutation, stronger than before, able to reach victims across large distances, able to get exactly what she wants whether it's memories, power or just to take someone out. That's a hell of a weapon."

"It is," agreed Chuck. He placed his hands in his lap. "I have been monitoring the developments in Rogue's condition quite carefully, and I don't believe her mutation has completed expansion yet. There is a possibility that she will become even more strong as time goes on. The neurological developments alone are astounding. While Rogue cannot change a person's thoughts, she does have a significant mind-reading ability. Whenever she touched someone in the past, a portion of their thoughts flowed into her, but usually not enough for her to make sense of them. Now, she can take more information from them and learn, for example, trade secrets, or the plans of enemies, without ever making them aware of the situation by causing them to suffer pain. She can extract the particular memories she wants, and she's gotten good at pinpointing just what she needs and leaving the rest."

"Mind reading - so that's how she knew," I mused aloud. Cyke gave me a critical look and I shrugged, hitching my thumbs through the belt loops of my jeans. "Nothin' at all," I said to him. "Just thinkin' out loud."

"Mind reading, yes, but without the ability to influence another person's conscious mind. I must admit, I prefer it that way. Rogue is intelligent and compassionate, but she is still a young girl, and despite her sincere interest in ethics, I would be uncomfortable knowing she could change the thoughts and perceptions of others. It is a difficult enough burden for those several times her age." Chuck glanced out the window at the gathering darkness. "Even without that power, I can foresee a great deal of danger should Rogue willingly or unwillingly join Magneto's Brotherhood. As it is, she is an extremely valuable asset to our team, and I'm afraid I'd begun to rely on her quite heavily until you showed up with news from Mystique."

"What can Magneto do? Mystique said his powers were different too, and stronger. Hers are much stronger too."

He nodded. "Yes, from what we understand, in addition to taking on the appearance of another mutant individual, Mystique can emulate that person's power to some degree. Her skills with their power are rudimentary and primitive, but I question whether that is due largely to her abilities or simply her inexperience utilizing their gifts. In the case of Rogue, I know Mystique can copy Rogue's old power, but it is not nearly as strong as the original - she could not kill someone with it, for instance - and she is also not able to do what Rogue can do now. As for Magneto, we are not entirely certain what he can do. Certainly, he has regained all his old strength. I also know he can affect gravity; make others fly or float, for instance, or increase the gravitational pressure to hold individuals to the ground to prevent them from flying in battle or escaping when captured. I learned this information from Warren, who was performing surveillance over Magneto's headquarters."

"This is all because of the cure?" I asked.

"Changes in a mutant's gifts seems to be a phenomenon limited to mutants who have taken the cure, or who were administered it by force, yes. So far, there is no evidence that the rest of us are affected by any change in power."

Cyke frowned. "Professor, if everyone who takes this cure knows some improvement in their abilities a few months down the road, what's to stop all the Brotherhood from taking it and getting stronger?"

"I do believe that once Magneto and Mystique have completed their own evolution, they will probably begin making the cure available to their followers, or perhaps even mandatory, although I think Erik is sufficiently intelligent to wait and see if any negative side effects develop first. In time, we may begin to notice a definite increase in the strength and skill of our enemies." He sighed, wearied by the thought. "What we must debate in the meantime is whether or not it will be legitimate to take the cure ourselves, to be able to better match Magneto. It is a serious concern of mine, but one which I hope we can wait a while to decide upon."

"Does everyone who takes the cure get their powers back? Don't any of them just lose their powers?"

"Approximately twenty percent of those who were given the cure either in the battle at Alcatraz or who sought it willingly at one of the cure centers have yet to see a revival of their powers. Since the experience of the rest shows that recovery from the cure takes place within three to six weeks of receiving the cure, it is safe to assume those who haven't started recovering from the cure will not regain their powers. For the other eighty percent, there is some return of ability. About a third of those who successfully throw off the cure find their powers are much weaker or limited than before. Another third regain all their old abilities, but nothing new. Only a third are, like Rogue and Magneto, able to get all of their powers back and develop significant new abilities, or increase their strength."

"So, how do we know whether we'll get our powers back or not, if we take it?" I asked.

With a grim smile, Chuck quirked an eyebrow. "Are you thinking of taking the cure, Logan? It is a gamble. However, we know that successful recovery from the cure is directly correlated to an individual's power before the cure was taken. Former class one and class two mutants make up almost the entire known population of those who have not regained their powers at all, while class three mutants are usually seeing a full return of their abilities with no added strength. It is almost exclusively the stronger of the class three, and the entire class four population, which s growing stronger." He smiled a little. "We can't know what the effect of the cure on a class five mutant would be, but we can guess."


	13. Chapter 13

An idea occurred to me suddenly, with such clarity that I couldn't imagine how I could have missed it before. "Last I knew, Rogue could turn her powers on and off whenever she wanted, so long as things were normal, but what about now? She's unconscious, and she's badly hurt. It ain't like normal sleepin' either. Do you think they'd work automatically?" I hated having to glance over at Cyke questioningly, and felt myself almost growlin' in competition and anger, but I held still. Rogue's life mattered more than my jealousy.

Of course, Cyke turned bright red, probably picturing the same stuff that was goin' through my mind. He couldn't look me in the face, and started stammering. "I -- I've _never _actually been with -- I mean, I'm not -- I really don't know, Logan, but I think her powers sort of default to off unless she consciously chooses to activate them. Otherwise, any time someone bumped into her when she wasn't paying attention, or was on the verge of falling asleep, they would have been hurt." He stared down at the floor, twitching. "Why?"

I didn't answer right away, but thought it through a little more. "The last time I touched her when she was completely unconscious, not just sleepin', she absorbed my powers, but that was before the cure. Hard to say what would happen now."

Chuck looked skeptical. "What are you thinking, Logan?"

Instead of answering, I started runnin' as quickly as I could back to the lab. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. It would be so simple: if I could get her to accept my powers, even a small dose, she would be healed better and quicker than by any other means. Thinking of the time I'd instinctively touched her on Liberty Island, I couldn't believe I hadn't done it right away, but it had been a long time since I'd laid a finger on her.

"Logan!" exclaimed Hank as I can barging in, wild-eyed. "This is a sterile unit! I'm in the middle of performing surgery here!"

Ignoring him for the moment, I shoved Bobby aside so I could get a better look. Lyin' on the table, Rogue was still unconscious, her face peaceful thanks to the drugs they were givin' her. She was undressed, as far as I could tell. They'd removed the burnt strips of cloth and covered her up with a thin sheet instead. "I have an idea," I said, speaking slowly. "I think I can fix her."

"And just how do you propose to --" began Bobby haughtily, but I grabbed him by his shirt collar and yanked him towards me, so our faces were inches apart. I was angry, and I was scared, and it was a bad combination already without him addin' sarcasm to it.

"Don't you question me, boy," I barked back, showing him my teeth. He quailed, and I growled, struggling to keep a tight leash on my inner demons. "You got that?" Releasing him roughly so that he had to stagger backwards to catch his balance, I eyed Hank. "You're wearin' gloves. How come?"

Hank was obviously confused, his thoughtful face twisted with curiosity and worry, but his tone was mild enough when he spoke, and he didn't seem surprised by my anger. "Well, for one thing, Logan, I am performing a surgery, which requires a degree of cleanliness, for which gloves are the common method of preventing germs through physical contact. Another reason is Rogue's powers. I don't know if they would affect me in this state, but I'm not going to risk touching her bare skin now that she is so heavily sedated and possibly unable to control her powers." Suddenly, his eyes gleamed with understanding. "You're going to attempt a transfer of your healing ability?"

"If I can, yeah. Do you know if we can get her powers to take?"

"As I understand it, her powers don't activate against her will any more, but since she is unconscious, I'm not sure what would happen. But Logan," he added. "It could be dangerous. Rogue is capable of causing you much more harm than before."

"That doesn't matter," I said, and pressed my hand against her face, cradling her cheek. I waited for the instant connection, eager for the stinging invasion of her powers and then the weakness that would follow, but there was nothing. With my other hand, I grabbed her arm, holdin' her tight enough to bruise. "C'mon!"

"Logan," said Hank sorrowfully after a few minutes had gone by. "I'm afraid she is somehow still able to control her powers and prevent them from activating. It was a valiant try, but I think it's best if you release her and allow me to return to the operation. With luck, I should be able to fix most of the damage yet."

Desperately, I looked down at her. Beneath the breathing tubes and compression machines, she looked hopelessly weak and extremely pale. Every vein was visible in her arm, and she appeared frail and helpless. I'd never seen her like that before. Rogue was many things, but she wasn't delicate. It made me ache to watch her in that state, and I shook my head furiously. "No, I can't give up. Not yet." Thinking about what Chuck had told me, I looked at Hank. "Is there a way to wake her up?"

"She is being kept asleep for her benefit, Logan. The pain she is suffering must be tremendous; burn victims experience some of the worse physical agony we know of. I can't see any reason for taking her off the medicine, even for a few seconds. Allowing her to sleep numbs her conscious mind to the pain and permits her body to dedicate its energy to healing."

"But if she woke up, just for a few seconds, she'd probably react to the pain by lashing out, wouldn't she?" asked Bobby, cottoning on. "Her first instinct would be to fight, and she would definitely be searching for any available power she could drain that would repair the damage to her body." He looked at Hank. "Dr. McCoy, I think it might be for the best if we woke her up. You yourself were just saying we won't be able to bring Rogue back one hundred percent. This could do it."

Chewin' his lip, Hank glanced over at Bobby, then at me. "And what happens?" he asked, "if Rogue's abilities do not kick in immediately? Do you expect me to leave her awake to endure the torture?"

"Just give me a few seconds, Doc. That's all I need. If she doesn't start takin' my powers right away, turn the anesthesia back on and do what you have to do to make her better. But give it a shot."

"I suppose it may be possible, but whether or not is ethical, I just don't know," Hank sighed, just as Chuck and Cyke re-entered the room. "Charles, I'm glad you're here. We have a plan that I'd like to run by you." He explained my proposal quickly. "What do you think?"

Chuck nodded. "Seeing as that would be Rogue's only hope of a complete recovery, I think it would acceptable for us to try. However, we cannot leave her awake to suffer for long. I will permit us a window of sixty seconds to try. That's one minute, Logan. If she does not respond in that amount of time, we will put her back to sleep and Hank will continue the surgery, while you will provide no further argument."

Wordlessly, Hank nodded at me. "Warren, go ahead and crimp the IV line while I revive her. Warren gritted his teeth, staring at the figure of Rogue lying still on the table, as Hank filled a syringe with some sort of clear substance.

"I'll leave the breathing apparatus in place," Hank explained, "although I expect her conscious reaction to it to be quite negative. To a waking person it normally feels like an obstruction, so she may fight it even though it is actually helping to maintain a normal oxygen level in her body. Logan, when she does wake up, I look to you to keep her from taking either the IV or the breathing tube out. Don't allow her to tamper with them."

"You got it," I said, grimacing. "Anything else?"

"Don't let her get to anybody," Drake piped up. "You want to touch her, you keep her still. I don't think the rest of us should handle her, just in case."

"Right." I watched as Rogue's breathing changed in rhythm, quickening a little. Her peaceful face contorted in pain, and a tear slipped from beneath her closed eyelids. Damn, but it felt like a punch to my gut to watch her suffering like that. I reached for her quick, hoping she would drain my powers and start to heal herself. Whatever happened to me no longer seemed very relevant, I just needed her to be okay. But she wasn't. I gripped her arm, but there was no spark of power. "Nothing's happening."

Chuck moved closer, patting Rogue's hand himself for a second before backing away again. "Keep trying. She is not fully conscious yet, just rising from sleep. Perhaps it will take a few more seconds before she is awake enough to utilize her powers or realize her situation."

"She's hurtin' though. God." I took hold of her hand, squeezing hard, and pressed the other hand to the bare skin around her collarbone, where there were no burns. In the absence of the medicine to keep her down, Rogue started moving around a little, her hand clenching around mine, gritting her teeth and moaning softly. I could tell she was hurting like crazy, and it made me feel awful.

Hank, who had been monitoring her vital signs on a machine that flashed red, frowned. "Here goes," he said gently. "She should wake up any second."

It was like nothing I'd ever seen one of the team go through before, although it reminded me of something, a memory long buried. All of a sudden, she was screaming at the top of her voice, as loud as Siren maybe, before she even managed to open her eyes. Once they were open, all I could see was pure hatred and agony; she stared at me directly, it seemed, accusing me of the pain as tears streamed down her face. She struggled to sit up, arms flailing against something she could neither see nor fight, and it took me a moment to remember to hold her down so she wouldn't tear out her tubes or rip off the breathing device.

"Rogue" I shouted in the chaos, as Bobby backed off and Hank tripped over a chair. "Rogue!" I got her to face me again and I grabbed her chin, holding her steady so she had to look only at me. I didn't want her to focus on anything but me at that moment. "Take my powers kid," I yelled. "It'll make it all better." She started at me, but still, I didn't feel any pull. "Rogue, please!"

"Logan," interrupted Hank as he got back to his feet. "I'm afraid this isn't going to work. We need to put her back under sedation; she can't be left in this state any longer."

"No," I bellowed. "No. She'll do it, just give her a minute." I shook her a little, wanting her to lash out and steal every last drop of healing ability in my body, but she was unfocussed and howling in agony, and Hank was already injecting a vial full of something into the IV drip and adjusting the speed to help the medicine course through her veins.

Chuck touched my arm gently. I threw him off, but he spoke insistently. "I'm very sorry, Logan. It was a valiant effort, but we must allow Hank to finish the surgery now, and do what he can on Rogue's behalf. Why don't you come with me?"

"Rogue," I whispered, holding her chin so that she still had to look at me. Her hair fell down her back, wet with sweat and tears and tangled from her thrashing around. Her brown eyes were glossy and red from crying, and her sight was already going blurry from the drugs. "C'mon kid, take it. Take my powers. It'll fix you up, Rogue, it'll make you better. Please, Rogue. Please!" I heard the sharp, panicked note in my voice but couldn't help it, and as I held her, Rogue's eyes slowly closed as she succumbed again to the sedative. "Damn it!"

"Logan," started Chuck, but I ignored him.

"Just let me -- God," I moaned, looking down at Rogue's face. Her cheeks were flushed from the brief ordeal, and I felt like shit for making her go through it for nothing. Gently, I stroked her hair, pushing it back out of her eyes. Chuck was pulling on my wrist, trying to get me to back off so they could finish the surgery, so I bent down and gave Rogue a kiss on her forehead, like it would absolve me.

Suddenly, a shock went through my entire body. I was so startled that I drew back and broke the physical connection, but as soon as I pressed my hand against her forehead, there it was again; a pain so quick and overwhelming that it was hardly pain at all. I started to tell Chuck it was working, but within a few seconds I was so weak that I could barely stand. Sliding down to my hands and knees on the floor, I tried to explain what was goin' on, but the words coming out of my mouth were slow as molasses, and I was so dizzy I could do little more than hold still, trying to stop the world from spinning. I could hear somebody yelling but they sounded so distant, I didn't bother trying to decipher what they were saying.

"C'mon, kid," I managed to whisper, speaking to Rogue as if she could hear me. I wasn't touching her any longer, but the connection wasn't broken yet. Waves of sickness rolled over me; I felt worse than I had ever felt in living memory, but it wasn't goin' away. Warren was grabbing my shoulder, trying to haul me back to my feet, and Hank was giving something to Rogue in hopes of stopping the connection between us, but I was too weak to fight. I just laid on the floor, letting her have it all. I wanted her to take all the healing, whatever she needed, but she was taking a lot more than my healing power; my memories were being drained and my thoughts were dissipating into fragments until I stopped being conscious at all. Within a few seconds, everything went mercifully black.


	14. Chapter 14

-1A/N: ©Thank you to dulcesweet, Roguechere, irisheyesaresmiling, WhiteMoonFlower and Halogazer for the frequent reviews and support!©

As requested, return to Rogan, slowly but surely.

­­­­­­­­­

_A week later_

"Logan?"

She was pretty. Dark hair fell in a sleek curtain down her back, and pale strands the color of snow framed her anxious face as she looked me over, a mixture of apprehension and kindness in her expression. She smelled nice, and there was a reassuring warmth to her scent. That was all I knew.

I'd lost nearly every memory I had the night I gave my power to her to use in recovering from her burns. I woke up knowing my name but not where I was or what I was doing there. Chuck tried talking to me, and he fed some of the basics back into my brain; we were in the school, the mansion; these were the X-men, mutants like me, who fought against oppressors like Magneto. He couldn't bring back everything though, and as long as Rogue was sleeping soundly, her body recovering from her burns like a miracle, there was no way for him to retrieve those thoughts without putting her at risk.

So, I didn't know who Rogue was when she slowly crossed the laboratory and moved closer to my bed, her brows knit and her face apologetic. She chewed her bottom lip and looked at me as though I was gonna bite her. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," I agreed. They'd studied me a lot, in order to check my mental processes and find out what I was thinking as well as how much I remembered. Before Rogue woke up, they tried to measure how much she had recovered by how much memory she was sending back, so they asked me questions all the time, about the president and the date, stuff like that, to see if I was thinking clear. "But the blue guy already checked on me. The fuzzy one, you know, big guy, the suit. I told him everything I knew."

She nodded uncomfortably. "Dr. McCoy, right, they told me he was the one in charge of monitoring you." Her face was unblemished by her ordeal, but I could see just the hint of a red scar across her hip where her low-rise jeans exposed her skin. At the time, I didn't know what had caused it, and didn't give it much thought. She was a stranger, like the rest. There was a mark on one of her hands, but she looked nothing like the catastrophe she'd been. "I'm not here to check your vitals, Logan, and in a few moments, you'll be back to normal. I've come to give you your memories back."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember me?" she asked, instead of answering.

I cocked my head, eyeing her, letting my gaze explore her face and trace her hips. "No," I answered honestly, shrugging as I met her eyes. "Except, well, you're sort of familiar."

She smiled sadly at this. "Oh, I thought you might remember me. I'm Rogue. Marie," she added, and looked surprised when I held out my hand for her to shake. "We've met before, Logan. We've done a lot more than just meet, actually," she sort of laughed, blushing red. "You know me pretty well, you've just forgotten that right now," she explained, but she shook my hand anyway, very delicately. "Well, I can't blame you for wanting to put me out of your mind. I haven't made it easy on you, these past few months. I have a hard time with forgiveness, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll know, in a minute. Look," she added, appearing uncomfortable. "There are some things I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I won't be able to say them once I know you've got your memories back, so I'm going to tell you now, okay, and it's up to you to remember them and make of it what you will. For one thing --" she swallowed hesitantly -- "I still love you. I've always loved you, right from the start, even before you crashed the truck and they brought us here, to the mansion. You used to know that, I think, but I bet you think I hate you now, because of what happened in Washington. You'll see," she added at my blank look. "Just so you know, I never quit loving you, and even though I'm still really hurt that you left me, I still love you. Okay?"

"Okay." I just stared at her, this beautiful thing telling me she loved me, her words hitting me hard even though I couldn't understand the force behind them.

Raking her fingers through her hair, she sighed deeply and scowled at the floor. "Everything is so messed up. I don't know what to do now, Logan. I feel like I can't forgive you, and I don't know why. I understand why you did what you did, and I still care about you, but I guess I'm too afraid to let go of my anger just yet. Also, I love Scott, I do! I couldn't hurt him by giving you a second chance, even if I wanted to. Sorry, I guess I'm confusing you. I just want to say," she hurried on, "that I'm sorry things are this way between us, and I don't know how to fix them."

I gave her a curious look. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. We've got a past, you're sayin'? Me and you?" I looked her over, appraising her curves with a frankness I never would have displayed otherwise, in the middle of our private cold war. Even half out of my mind, I recognized her as beautiful, and I licked my lips at the thought of what we might have done. "We've got some history?"

"We do," she said, blushing. "We used to be friends, and then, we became something else entirely. I flirted with you a lot, and we -- God, I really wish things could go back to how they were, before D.C., before everything." Lookin' close to tears, she stared at my face. "I'm really grateful for what you did for me, giving me your powers so I could get better, even though it must have been awful for you. Well, if you're ready..." She held out her hand and indicated for me to grasp it. "I have your memories still, but I've gone through them enough, and it's time for you to have them back. I hope you don't mind -- I don't need to touch to administer my powers anymore, and I guess Chuck explained that to you, but just once, for old times' sake, I'd like to." She smiled and took my hand, squeezin' it tight and interlacing her fingers with mine. For some reason, I squeezed back, clinging to her and not wanting to let go, even though I couldn't understand why.

The connection opened and at once my memories poured back in, a torrent of stolen thoughts coming in too quick to place. My energy level surged so much that my body shook with the sudden return of my powers. There was a chaotic jumble of recollections in my mind, and I sorted through them desperately, seeking out the ones that would explain the honey-eyed girl holding onto me and everything she had said, but before I could get anything figured out, she wrenched out of my grip and hurried away, her footsteps echoing in the halls, the scent of tears trailing behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

Loved me. Loved me. _She_ loved _me_.

I spent the following days walking around the mansion in a daze, just thinking about what Rogue had told me. I didn't know if she had intended for me to remember it, but I had. She'd given me my powers back and the impact had been like a tidal wave, but I'd managed to hold on to what she said, clinging to her sentiment like a drowning man holding fast to a raft. An alarm had sounded as she had walked out, betraying my rapid heart-beat, screaming out to Hank that I had torn myself free of the last bit of tubing that kept me tied to the lab, and there had been a sudden chaos of Ororo and Hank and Kitty Pryde all running over to see what had happened to me, but I'd managed to keep her words first in my thoughts.

Now, I just needed to figure out what to do about them.

"Rogue," I said gently, leaning against the archway between the hall and one of the lounge rooms where she was sitting with Bobby, Pete and Kitty.

She looked up immediately, her eyes wide. "Logan!" came her surprised voice, but at least she didn't sound pissed at my intrusion. Kitty gave me her best glare, paying me back for my rough treatment of 'ol Iceman, who ignored me, but I didn't bother to call her bluff. "What are you --"

"Can I talk to you?" I interrupted. Pete swung over to face me, and I wondered if Cyke had asked the burly Russian to protect her while he was out on assignment, but Pete and I had always gotten along fairly well, so he didn't make a scene. He just shrugged and watched, impassive, as Rogue went pink in the face. "Alone?" I added firmly.

She handed the bowl of popcorn she'd been holding to Kitty and got up from the couch. "Yes, I guess." She wasn't excited about it, but she followed me out of the lounge and over to the kitchen.

"Want a beer?" I offered, getting one out of the fridge for myself. I kept 'em way in the back, out of sight of the younger kids; the older ones knew enough to stay out of my stash. She frowned and I remembered alcohol had gotten us into the trouble to start with, so I handed her a Pepsi instead.

"Are you feeling better, Logan?" she asked sort of primly as she sat down at one of the small tables.

I nodded. "I'm fine kid. Hell, I'm great." I looked her over, checking for any marks of her recent trauma. She was all healed from the looks of it. "You all right?"

"Yes." Her fingers drummed on the table-top and she avoided my eyes. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"I've been thinking about the stuff you said, right before you gave my powers back," I started off. Her face radiated heat and I could sense her heart rate spiking, but she didn't take off, which was sayin' something. "What you said, kid --"

She looked up at me, her eyes sad. "I was really tired that night, Logan. I was feeling really sentimental, I guess. Just forget about that stuff, okay? I'm sorry I bothered you with it. I should have just kept it to myself."

"No! No, Rogue, I'm not gonna forget. I don't want to forget, kid." Reaching forward, I covered her hand with mine, hoping that gesture was sayin' the stuff I couldn't bear to speak out loud. I'd never been good with sentimental mush. Romeo and Juliet was Cyke's area of expertise, not mine, but I gave it my best shot. "I was sorta hoping we could work things out between us, and get back to normal."

"What kind of normal?"

"What do you mean?"

"What is it you want from me, Logan?" she asked. "Do you want to be friends again, the way we were when I was the only person you opened up to, and you were basically the only one I talked to about my life? Am I going to be the person you come looking for when you need forgiveness after a hard night of drinking and brawling and sleeping with tramps you meet in bars? Are you going to call me kid forever, like I've never changed? Do you want to keep me safe, is that it? Or what?" Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn't angry, she was close to tears. "Do you want things to be the way they were in D.C.?"

"I want it all." My voice was kind of husky, and I would've trembled if I'd been the sort of man to get weak at the knees. "Everythin'. I want you, as many ways as I can have you."

"Yeah?" Her voice was a hard challenge, daring me to back down.

"Yeah. I want to know everythin' there is to know about you, kid, and I want to fall asleep holdin' you every single night, because I can't sleep if I'm not close to you, not really. I want to protect you, I want to make love to you, I want in on every secret you know. I can't be without you anymore, kid; when I'm with you, I'm home. So there it is, Rogue." I watched her, letting her see my eyes so she would know that she could trust me. "The truth."

She gritted her teeth and regarded me with mistrustful eyes. She wanted to believe me though; it was obvious. "Logan, even if that was possible --"

"Of course it's possible. Why isn't it possible?"

"Because I'm with Scott!" She jerked her hand out of my grasp and I felt something snap in my chest, such a sharp pain I couldn't even breathe for a moment. Frowning, she lifted her head slowly, her fingertips tracing a pattern in the old oak table. "I know you don't understand - maybe you can't understand - but Scott was there for me when no one else was. He's already endured a horrific loss. Even if I wanted to break up with him, I don't think I could. I owe him now, and he needs me."

"Even if," I echoed dully. My voice sounded cold, which matched the way I felt. "Even if," I repeated. "Meanin' you aren't interested, right kid?"

Rogue tilted her head. "That's not what I said, and that's definitely not what I meant. I do care about you, Logan. I always have and I probably always will. I told you that, in the lab, and I meant it. Just, I don't think I can sacrifice what I've got with Scott in order to take a chance on you." Her eyes were watery with tears as she looked me over. "A few months ago, a few years ago - I would have jumped at the opportunity to be with you. That was all I wanted. Now, I am starting to trust you again, but you must see how difficult that is, and I'm not sure I can rush it. Right now, I've got a good thing with Scott. He's reliable. He's safe. He makes me happy."

"I could make you happy. I could keep you safe."

"I know you could, Logan, and you would, until the next time you start to get scared about being too close, or the next time Chuck finds a lead that could tell you about your past, or until the next time a sexy, beautiful woman moves into the mansion and starts flirting with you - and then you might go, and that might be the end of it. I can't go through that again."

"That won't happen kid, I promise. I'm not gonna leave you ever again."

"I wish I could believe you." Sliding back her chair, Rogue sighed, pushing aside the half-empty drink. "I better get back, or Pete will send out a search party."

"Kid --"

"I'll talk to you later, Logan," she said. "I really have to go."


	16. Chapter 16

"What the hell are you doing?" Bobby Drake asked as he stepped into the garage twenty minutes later and caught sight of me throwing whole boxes of nails against the wall, letting 'em break open, spilling piles of nails all over the floor. A hammer went flyin' over his head and stuck into the plaster of the wall; he ducked, but didn't leave. "Things didn't go so well with Rogue, I take it?"

"Look, bub," I snapped at him, stabbing a finger at his chest, my eyes glinting like a wild thing. "I don't think you're in the mood for a brawl, so why don't you step back inside. Go back to your movie and your popcorn and your girl, and stay the hell away from me." I kicked the tire on Cyke's car with more force than was necessary; luckily, it didn't pop, because I wasn't in the mood to fix anything of his. I kicked the fender too, leaving a dent in the car he loved so much, and that made me feel proud and hurt all the same. "Did you hear me?" I added roughly when Drake stayed put. My claws sprang out, and blood trickled across my knuckles. "I'm not fuckin' with you, kiddo."

He licked his bottom lip like he was nervous, but his face didn't betray much emotion. It never did; he was as cold as his code name implied. He cocked his head and watched me calmly. "I know you're not, but I don't know what you expect from me. Seems like last time we got into it, I managed to survive," he reminded me, icing up in his forearms as a warning.

"That was because I didn't have time to kill you," I said, angrily. "Unlike now." I stood as tall as I could and glared at him, preparing to charge. He wasn't Cyke - that was who I _really_ wanted to rip apart, because it was Cyke who had ruined my chances with Rogue - but he would do. "You really want to go at it? Come on, then, try me, bub. Let's see if I can't carve myself an ice sculpture."

"No," he said, hands in his pockets, the ice dissolving back to flesh. "I don't want to fight you, Logan, but not because I'm scared of you." His eyes met mine, and he changed the subject quick. "I just came to tell you, Rogue left a few minutes ago. I thought you might want to know. The Professor told us you were part of the security team now, and that we had to inform you of anything suspicious happening around here, so consider yourself informed."

That shut up the ranting beast inside of me. All the hot and furious anger I felt changed into cold fear, as if the kid had touched me and turned my heart into ice just like his own skin. "Left? Where'd she go?"

"Out the front door, that's all I know; Kitty saw her go, I was in the kitchen making cocoa for her. I'm pretty sure she's on foot, because you'd have seen her if she'd come through here to get Scott's car. So, she can't be too far away. She's a good runner, but I don't think she was going anyplace in particular. Look," Drake said, shifting uncomfortably, "if you don't want to take care if it, I think I'm going to tell the Professor, and then recruit Pete to go looking for her with me. Nobody seems to tell me anything anymore, but I know she's supposedly in some kind of danger, and whatever you might think happened between us, I don't want her to get hurt, so --"

"Out of my way." I dropped the tire iron I'd been twirling around in one hand, ignoring the sharp clang as it hit the cement floor, and I charged right past Bobby, towards the front hall. Yanking open the door, all I could see for a moment was darkness. There wasn't any moon out, and the stars were blocked by thick cloud cover, but within a second I could see well enough to make out a distant female shape on the edge of the road. "Rogue!" I called, running after her. "Rogue!"

"You made a promise to me, Logan," said a soft, irate voice, and I turned in time to watch Mystique swing down from the branch of a tree and kick me hard enough to send me sprawling. "I don't appreciate being lied to."

The figure on the road was gone, swallowed up in shadows, by the time I got back on my feet, and I felt myself freeze.

"Where's Rogue? What did you do with her?"

"Where's Pyro?" she asked, taunting me.

My claws flew out from between my knuckles, and I caught her good right across the face, but it was just a swipe, and she laughed lightly as the blood poured down her cheek, as if she'd appreciated the trick. In the distance, I heard a soft sound as Rogue called out, and then the sound of someone falling to the ground in a heap. I prayed it wasn't Rogue who had fallen.

"Get her back here, now, or you're dead, bitch," I hissed at Mystique. I heard the front door of the mansion fly open as several of the X-men came running out into the darkness, screaming for Rogue, shouting at each other as they tried to formulate a plan.

"She's somewhere by the road. Magneto's got her - and Mystique's here!" I shouted at them. For that, I was rewarded with another kick to the mouth, and then Mystique glided upwards, changing her shape so quickly I could hardly keep track of her. I set off up the tree after her, slashing at leaves and shadows, sending branches cascading to the ground as the sounds of the beginning skirmish hit me.

"Rogue?" I heard Pete yellin' in his thick accent. His body shone silver beneath me, bulky with his mutant armor. "Rogue, where are you?"

Rogue's voice echoed from somewhere near the road, but as I turned to see if I could spot her, there was a small explosion that almost blinded me for a second and gave Mystique time to jump down from the tree and sprint away, a blur of conflicting shapes that made her difficult to spot. Someone else was leaping through the yard; not one of ours, so I let myself fall from the tree and gave chase, running fast-paced towards the road after him.

I caught sight of Rogue as she staggered past the fallen form of a bulky guy in a long coat, holding her bare hands out in front of her like the weapons they were. Mystique's form cemented and she collapsed into a heap fifteen feet from Rogue, falling down face-first into the gravel, a victim of Rogue's powers even though they had not touched. Rogue had left a small trail of carnage behind her: if Madrox had sprung any of his replicas on her, they were gone now, and he was flopped on the ground with blood pouring out of his nose. Next to him was a girl with purple hair who I'd never seen before, her eyes glazed and sightless, obviously dead, and beyond them three more shapes rested immobile.

"Rogue? Kid, are you all right?" I demanded. She didn't answer, just sort of fell forward into my arms, not even bothering to keep her balance, simply trusting I would catch her. Of course, I did. She was a boneless heap resting against me, her clothes covered with blood, but from the smell of it, at least, none of it was hers. Her hair was tangled as if someone had tried to grab it, but I didn't waste time looking her over in the dark. Instead, I scooped her up and held her close, worshipping the sensation of touching her again without a fight, and I carried her back to the mansion as some of the others drove back the rest of the Brotherhood.

Inside, the mansion was virtually silent. I could hear some of the younger kids movin' around upstairs, trying to figure out what was goin' on, but everybody else was outside. I ran into the lounge, where the television was still on playing to an empty audience, and set Rogue down on the couch. It hurt to let go of her, but I knew I had to check her over and made sure she hadn't been beat up too badly.

"Rogue? Are you hurt? Answer me!" I said briskly, my fingers runnin' over her body, checking for bullet wounds, bites, whatever kind of damage Mags' Brotherhood could inflict on her. "Hey, kid, are you all right?"

"Logan?" came her tremulous voice, and I let out a sigh of relief as she sat up a little. She was pale, and dazed, but any thoughts I might have had about that faded damn quick, because she reached for me then, her body shaking, tears flooding her face, her arms finally wrapping around my neck as I crushed her into the hardest embrace I could manage.

I lost track of time for a while there. I was too busy letting myself nuzzle against her soft hair and her neck, seekin' out her warmth the way I had too long ago, when we had been so close and she had sought me out whenever she'd heard me thrashing around during a nightmare. I'd clung to her for solace a lot back then, letting the terror seep away as I held her, and she did the same with me that night, holding on for dear life after we'd hardly carried on a complete conversation all month.

Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps, someone walking over in combat boots. "They're gone. Mystique got away, of course, she always does, but Ororo was able to get --" Bobby Drake's words faded away just as quickly as he'd started talking, and I felt Rogue pulling away from me. There was blood all over my shirt when I looked down, a spreading warmth of red across my chest and stomach, stains from whoever Rogue had taken out. She hadn't gone about it gently, that was for sure; whatever she'd done had been violent and spilt so much blood that even Pete looked shocked.

"Is she all right?" he asked thickly, his eyes wide.

"I'm fine, Pete, I'm --" Rogue fell silent again, and leaned her head against my chest, shuddering. I put my arm around her, pullin' her in close. "Where's Scott?" she asked softly. "Did he come in yet?"

Bobby looked at Pete, who shook his head mutely, plainly confused. "I don't know, Rogue," Bobby told her softly. "As far as I know, he's still on assignment in Dallas. I don't think he's anywhere near here. He wasn't due to come back for a while, probably another day at least from what the Professor said."

She lifted her head, eyes shining with confusion and tears. "No, that can't be right. I heard him; he was outside, calling for me, and when I looked out the window I saw him, I'm absolutely positive I did. That's the reason I went outdoors in the first place. I thought he needed help with something."

"It was a trick, Rogue, just a ploy for them to capture you. It was almost certainly Mystique impersonating Scott. Look, you can't go outside again, not unaccompanied, never alone, okay?" Bobby looked almost gruff as he spoke, his face showing emotion he usually kept concealed. "Not until we sort this out, until we find out what they want. Promise me."

She nodded, her face still buried in my damp shirt. It was partially soaked from her tears, and I knew she was going through some serious difficulty, the way she always did when she'd had to hurt someone, even if it was for a good reason. It didn't matter that the Brotherhood had snuck onto the school's property, or that they had battled her friends and tried to take her by force, she was goin' to feel guilty about any injury she had inflicted on them. "I won't," she promised, not lifting her head. She wrapped one arm around my neck again, and I took her hand and squeezed it hard.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Um," he said, sounding awkward, "you do know that's Logan you're holding onto, right?"

"I know it is, Bobby. It's okay."

Bobby looked down at me in surprise and I glared back at him, mean enough to get him moving backwards towards the door. "I've got her, don't worry," I told him, even though he wasn't in any position to tell me what to do. "I'll take care of her." _Forever_, I thought, but I didn't say that aloud, because it seemed from the way she held me, Rogue already knew.


	17. Chapter 17

"Rogue? Rogue!"

It was about two hours later when Cyke came bursting into the mansion with all the force in the world, running as fast as his legs would carry him, looking for his fiancée, who just happened to be asleep in my arms.

I hadn't moved her from the lounge, hadn't dared disturb her once Bobby and Pete had trotted out, just in case she changed her mind about bein' next to me and wanted to go off on her own again, so we had stayed there, holding on each other real tight for nearly a half hour. I'd pulled her close and let her cry out all the guilt and sorrow she felt, and rubbed her back as the fear gave way to calm again. Finally, she'd rested her head on my lap and stayed still, lettin' me stroke her dark hair as her body relaxed. She'd fallen asleep holding my hand, and I'd stayed awake, watching her inhale every breath. It had been almost like the past had never happened, like all the damage I'd done to her was all of a sudden healed.

"Rogue?" Cyke called, scurrying down the hallway. He caught sight of the light on in the lounge and peeked his head in, coming to a halt real quick. "Rogue! Are you --" he stopped, gaping at me in horror, but he recovered fast. "Is she all right?" he asked me shortly, his mouth drawn tight and his expression angry, betraying some jealousy.

"She is now," I told him, wantin' him to understand -- I'd been the one who had made it that way. I'd been the one who had charged out into the night to protect her, I'd been the one who had brought her back inside and calmed her down. It had been me, not him, that had been there to hold her when she'd broken down crying this time.

I could tell he wanted to start something, but he kept still. "Tell me what happened."

"The Brotherhood tried to take her. They tricked her, I guess; she was sure she'd seen you outside and heard you callin' for her, so she went out, and they ambushed her. It was Mystique, Jamie, a couple of others. I didn't see Mags, but of course, he must have been behind it."

"God," he breathed out heavily. He flopped into one of the armchairs, the energy flowing out of his body at the news. "Ororo radioed me and told me something had happened, but she wouldn't give me any details. I was so scared," he admitted. "She told me to stay in Dallas, and said that the Professor needed me not to leave the assignment, but I couldn't do it, Logan. I had to get back."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know how it is," I answered him. I touched Rogue's face gingerly, darin' Cyke to make any comment. He didn't, but his face was livid. "You goin' to report to Chuck?"

"In a few minutes, after I take Rogue upstairs and put her to bed. I want to make sure she's all right," he answered coldly, getting angry again. "Why is there blood all over the two of you? Did she get hurt badly?"

"Nah, she's all right, but the Brotherhood aren't. I'm not sure what she did exactly, but she didn't go easy on 'em."

"All right, then," Cyke said. He stood up, dusting himself off in his prissy manner, and then he crossed over to where Rogue and I were on the couch. "Here, I'll take her."

I shook my head. "She's fine right here, I think."

His hands curled into fists, which wasn't like him at all. Cyke was a decent fighter when he had to be, but for him, violence and anger were only for the sake of the mission. He just didn't do pissed off, even when the situation was right. I'd managed to get him riled up, and it made me sit up a little taller, proud of myself for gettin' a reaction out of him.

"No, Logan, I don't think she is," he answered me, shaking his head. "Look, after what she's just been through, she's going to need someone to talk to, and pardon me, but you aren't the best man for the job and I think we both know it. Now, I'm going to bring her upstairs and help her get cleaned up and off to bed." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to take my hands off of her. "Well?"

"Well nothin', Cyke. She's all right where she is," I said, touching her face again so that she stirred just a little, nuzzling against my thigh. Cyke turned a sick purplish color, like he'd been strangled. "I'll sit with her until she wakes up, and then _I'll_ bring her up to her room," I told him. "I can clean off blood just as well as you can."

"Logan," he started furiously, his color deepening as I touched Rogue's hair. "Let go of her, now! I'm not in the mood for this." He bent down so his face was inches from hers. "Rogue? Rogue, hey, wake up, okay?"

She blinked, once, and then closed her eyes again, succumbing to sleep. Cyke must have noticed that she was still holdin' onto my hand, but he didn't say anything about that, just shook her a little. "Rogue, it's Scott. I'm home. Wake up."

"Scott?"

"Yes, yes, it's me," he said, relieved as she opened her eyes a little. "I came back to make sure you were okay. How are you feeling?"

She frowned a little, confused and still partly asleep. "I'm all right, I guess." Tears welled up in her eyes, but didn't spill, and she covered her face with her hands, shuddering. "It was pretty bad, Scott. I had to hurt some people, and you know I hate that...but I'm okay now, I think. Logan brought me inside and --" she broke off, her eyes flicking upwards, searching for me. "He took care of me." Settling back down, she took my hand again.

"Well, that's great," Cyke said through clenched teeth. "Thank you, Logan. All right, Rogue, come on with me. I'll bring you up to your bedroom so you can take a bath and put on some clean pajamas, okay?"

She shook her head. "No, not right now," she said gently, muffling a yawn with one hand, the hand that wasn't still holding onto mine. "I'm so tired! I think I'm just going to stay here a little longer, and sleep...don't want to be alone yet. Logan will sit with me a little longer, won't you, Logan?"

"Sure, kid."

Cyke didn't look pleased by that at all, and my smirking at him didn't help matters none. "Rogue, I'll stay with you," he started, but he was interrupted.

"Scott," Chuck said as he entered the room. He looked perfectly alert despite the late hour, though his clothes were wrinkled, as if he'd thrown them on in a hurry. "I thought I recognized your voice." He didn't look upset but I could tell he wasn't happy to see that Cyke had disobeyed orders and come home. "What are you doing back here at the mansion so soon? I assigned you to monitor the FOH situation in Dallas."

Cyke stood up, shaking his head. "Ororo called me and told me what had happened. I couldn't stay in Texas, Professor, not without knowing whether or not Rogue was all right."

"You compromised your mission," Chuck said. His voice was stern, not a tone he usually used on his favorite X-man. "The situation in Dallas is bound to have been escalating ever since you left. From what you've told me in your reports, it seems doomed to erupt into violence at any point, and we have no one in the vicinity to observe what it happening and call in a team to protect those at risk. We're talking about hundreds of lives at stake here, Scott, innocent mutants who could be trapped in the chaos." He shook his head, radiating disappointment.

"Professor, I'm sorry, but I had to come back," Scott said, but his voice wavered, like he wasn't so sure anymore.

Chuck nodded slowly. "I see. Well, I know it is very late and that you are probably looking forward to some rest, but I'm afraid I do need to discuss this further with you, and the matter cannot wait. You understand, I am disappointed in your decision. Come along now, let's go into my office."

"I was just going to help Rogue upstairs, Professor. Can it wait a minute?"

Chuck looked over at Rogue and I. "No, Scott, I don't think so. Logan," he went on, turning to me. "Do you think you can help Rogue back to her bedroom now? She should probably get some rest after her ordeal."

"Sure."

"Good. See to it that she is comfortable. Oh, and Logan, if you don't have anything else pressing I wonder if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on her a while longer, just to make sure she feels safe. After what she has been through, she would probably feel safer with a sentry at her door."

That was the closest to permission Chuck was ever goin' to give me to be in Rogue's room again, so I nodded quickly, ignoring Cyke's scowl. "Will do, Professor."

"Professor, with all due respect --" Cyke started to say, but he was interrupted as Chuck held up a hand.

"I am not prepared to get into an argument about this issue, Scott. You have let me down, and you have let the team down." His eyes glinted with anger. "We all have close friends and loved ones in this school, others that we care about, but you have been trained not to let your personal interests conflict with your assignments. I asked Ororo to contact you, so you would not be baited into leaving your post by Magneto or anyone else attempting to trick you into thinking Rogue was in further danger. I wanted you reassured, but instead of maintaining your commitment, you fled. Your actions may have costs others their lives."

Flabbergasted, Scott touched his forehead like he thought he'd just gone mad. "Professor, she's my fiancée," he stammered, pointing to the thin silver band that Rogue wore on her ring finger. "I'm sorry, but when it comes to priorities --"

Chuck shook his head, backing the wheelchair up so he could turn around and go back into the hallway. "Believe me, Scott, I do understand how you feel. I look at you - all of you - as my family, as individuals I would die to protect. I am pleased that you have found comfort and trust in Rogue, and I will be delighted this summer when I walk her down the aisle." He didn't seem to notice as I started grinding my teeth, but neither of them were payin' attention to me anyway. "What concerns me is the swiftness with which you abandoned your post, and the fact that you did not call to inform me that you would be leaving. It's not like you, Scott. During your years of marriage to Jean, you never behaved in this way, even when you knew Jean was in danger."

Cyke looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. All the color dripped out of his face, until he was white as a ghost, his skin waxy and his expression shocked. "Professor Xavier!" he gasped, injured by the mention of Jean's sacred name.

Chuck glanced over at me and sighed. "This is a personal matter, Scott, and I'd like to conduct it privately within the confines of my office. Now, is that acceptable to you, or would you prefer we continue to debate the issue in front of Logan and Rogue?"

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Cyke shook his head slowly. The ruby visor hid his eyes, but I would have sworn they were red anyway, and his mouth was turned down real sad, so I even felt sort of sorry for him. Hearing Jean's name had stolen all the energy from him.

Rogue stirred in my arms, sitting up slowly, just in time to see Cyke trudge out after Chuck. She looked at me, wordless, and then glanced at my shirt. "Logan, you're all bloody."

"So are you, kid," I pointed out. "Things got pretty gruesome out there tonight, huh?"

"Yeah," she admitted, letting me settle an arm around her shoulders. Pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, she sighed. "I know I shouldn't care about it, but I feel terrible."

"Don't worry about that anymore. They were bad guys, and they were up to bad things. C'mon now, Chuck wanted me to bring you up to your room and let you get some sleep." I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, not quite daring to make eye contact. "He said you might want someone to stay with you a while, just so you feel safe. Would that be all right?"

I expected her to refuse, but she nodded. "Yes, that would be good." Peeling her grimy shirt away from her body, she made a face. "I need to change."

I followed her upstairs, past a couple of kids that were still out in the halls chatting. None of them looked too worried anymore, at least until they caught sight of Rogue and I, both of us covered in blood. They moved aside, giving us space to pass, and I heard rumors flying when she unlocked her bedroom door and invited me inside, closing the door behind us.


	18. Chapter 18

I hadn't been inside her bedroom for months, but I recognized it, of course, even though she had changed it around some. Gone were the posters, replaced with framed art prints, which she paused to name for me, telling me a little about each artist as if she were an art gallery tour guide. I was real proud of her then, and seeing her more grown up and ladylike didn't hurt for the first time in a while.

Someone, maybe Cyke, had painted her walls, so instead of institutional white they were a gentler ivory. It wasn't much of a change but somehow it made a difference; the light fell softer on her face and mine, and everythin' else in the room. She'd gotten rid of the single bed and replaced it with a double, which worried me for a minute, but I didn't smell Cyke around. There were some candles on the bureau, a few photographs too. I was touched to see my own gruff face lookin' out at her from the center one.

"I like that one," she said when she caught me glancing over at it. "The light makes your eyes look pretty."

"Pretty?" I asked her, and her mouth quirked into the easiest smile I'd seen in ages.

"Yes, sort of. Don't worry, the rest of you is ugly enough to make up for it," she added with a laugh, winking at me. "I'm going to run a quick bath. You can wait for me in here if you want, but if you've got someplace else to be, you can go."

"I'll be here," I promised her, and watched her descend into the steamy bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Alone, I prowled around her bedroom a little. I bent low, my nose barely an inch from the covers, scenting the territory for the smell of another man, but even though I could read Rogue's scent loud and clear, I couldn't pick up anything else aside from the flowery fabric softener. I touched the cotton blanket and the sheets - silk, another change - before goin' back over to the photographs. There was a strip of pictures showing her and Cyke, the type people can take in a booth someplace. They were laughing together in the first one, and he was kissing her cheek in the second, but they had some distance between them in the third, which satisfied me. I caught sight of Pyro too, in one of the pictures. He was with Rogue, and they were sitting at a booth in some public place, maybe a mall, drinking a milkshake out of two straws like kids in the fifties.

Seeing that got me thinkin' more about the fire starter, and I remembered what Chuck had told me, that Pyro had quit throwing fire at Rogue as soon as he'd realized he'd actually hurt her. They'd been friends once, I knew, back when she and I had first showed up at the school. I wondered what she thought of him now, if it made her sad to see him kept prisoner by the X-men, or what, but I didn't have too long to dwell on it, because she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, her wet hair flowing down her back.

"So, kid," I asked, when she sat down to brush her hair and braid it, "are we cool now?"

"You know," she said lightly, shrugging, "I think we're getting there." She set down the brush. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making sure I was safe. You were the first one outside, the first one to come and help me, and I really appreciate that. It was really scary, you know; as soon as I got down to the edge of the driveway, I just knew something was wrong. It didn't feel right."

"You know I'd do anything for you, kid," I said, my voice hoarse. I reached forward and touched her hair just for a second. "I mean it, if there is anything you want, anything you need, I'll make sure you have it, no problem."

She blushed a little and looked away, finishing up her hair. "So, Scott's in trouble, huh?"

"You heard that? Yeah, I guess he is. Chuck isn't happy about him leavin' Dallas just to come home and make sure you're all right. He walked off the job to come and check on you though, so I guess you can't be too pissed at him," I added, amazed to find myself defending Cyke. I couldn't help it though; I'd have done the same thing. "Seems to me he's got his priorities in order."

"I never thought I'd hear you say a kind word about Scott again," she said gently. "Oh, I hope the Professor goes easy on him. Scott's always been loyal, and he's one of the best guys we have on the team."

"He'll be fine," I promised, although I didn't know one way or the other. I pulled back the sheets of her bed instead of looking at her. "Here, Chuck said I was supposed to make sure you got some sleep, so you may as well lay down. Don't worry," I added, when she bit her lip, "I'm not goin' to try anything."

Rogue smiled. "I know that, Logan. I wasn't worried. I was just thinking, it's really nice to be able to talk to you again. I know it can't be easy for you, but I'm glad you've stuck around. I'm really thankful for this moment."

"I'm not goin' anywhere. I swore that," I said. "All right, hush up now and get some sleep," I added, because I was scared I'd say something even more sappy than what I'd already done and embarrass her half to death. "We can talk some in the morning though, if you like. Maybe - maybe even go for a ride, into town someplace, for breakfast? I ain't worried about the Brotherhood lurking outside anymore, especially not in broad daylight, after what they faced tonight. Besides, I'd be there to make sure you were safe."

She nodded. "That would be really nice, Logan. I'll go, as long as the Professor thinks it's all right."

"Good," I told her. "All right now, close your eyes, get some rest and all that. Don't worry about a thing, because I'll be here all night."


End file.
